Harry Potter and the Guardian of Lost Souls
by RosieG
Summary: Harry's fifth year may prove to be the most dangerous and difficult one yet. Voldemort has discovered a way to drown the world in evil and only the Guardian stands in his way. But the Guardian has betrayed the Light before...
1. PrologueThe Betrayal of Ralstin

"Harry Potter and the Guardian of Lost Souls"  
  
Disclaimer: All of the characters from the Hp Books belong to J.K. Rowling. Merlin under no circumstances belongs to me. (Obviously...) The whole idea of the Light and the Darkness kind of came from "The Dark is Rising" sequence but not really. The plot I'm very proud to say, is mine as is the character "Ralstin". To the best of my knowledge, Merlin never had an apprentice. This disclaimer will serve as the disclaimer for my entire story.  
  
A.N:) Hey everyone! I'm back! And I think this story is going to blow you all away! I don't even know where the plot came from... It just suddenly formed itself in my head. My dream is to become a published author (I already consider myself an author in my heart) and ff.net is really helping me to develop my writing skills. Here I can work on plots before I'm ready to take on my own characters. I want to thank anyone who'll review this already beforehand. Reviews build people's self esteem so much and give them the will power to stick to projects and never give up. Everything is possible, especially when people support eachother!  
  
  
Prologue:  
  
"Esh vamim asartu aduma tavo kesim koluram!"  
The words rang clear and echoed throughout the great stone hall, bouncing off the walls and ringing from the dripping ceiling. A fire was ablaze in the center of the room spreading light and warmth everywhere save the darkest and most hidden corners and crevices, while the constant drip-drip from above caused it to sizzle every few seconds.  
Merlin of the Light circled the fire chanting the spell, his voice rising in volume and power. His hands shook violently as he scattered more powder into the flames causing them to erupt momentarily in red and gold sparks. His body could barely contain the unnaturally powerful and magical soul that possessed it. Indeed, the prophets had been correct. Merlin was to become the greatest wizard to have ever been known.  
He finished his circling and stood before a small wooden table- damp from it's prolonged existence in the hall and chipped from overuse. A book lay open upon it, it's words shimmering gold in the faint light. It seemed to whisper secrets unknown to man save a chosen few. The words were scattered into the silence and lost there.  
"Accio Libro." The book flew into Merlin's outstretched hand as lightly as a leaf is carried in a gusting wind. It fell open magically to the wizard's desired page- an empty page. He began to mutter words and as he spoke, the book transcribed them onto itself:  
~Spell of Protection against the Powers of Darkness~  
- -This spell will conceive an aura of purest light, which will bind itself to he that the caster wishes to protect, himself or another. It should not be used except in dire need, when no other chance of escape presents itself. The reason is simple, each time the spell is used, it will remove five years of life from the one to use it.-  
- Merlin paused, looking up from his work. He had heard a noise outside the great wooden doors at the northern end of the hall. It sounded like something that shouldn't be there. Something was amiss.  
- Suddenly, he gasped, a sharp pain gripped his heart and the doors were flung open and torn from their hinges. A dark wind swept the room and the great fire was extinguished, plunging Merlin into utter darkness.  
He remained still and silent, feeling the presence of evil enter the hall. He heard footsteps echo all around him and someone taking ragged breaths.  
"Who are you?!" Merlin boomed. "Show yourself Agent of Darkness!"  
The footsteps stopped and he heard a short contemptuous laugh, followed by a whisper that held almost as much power as his own voice had.-"Merlin."  
Pillars of green fire sprang up around him and the great wizard was temporarily blinded by the sudden blazing light. When he regained his sight he looked around to face he who had dared challenge him. But his heart turned to ice and his breath caught in his chest when he recognized the familiar figure of his apprentice- the boy he had taken under his wing seven years ago to teach and train so that one day, he might have a predecessor to stand against the darkness when he was gone.  
"Ralstin." He muttered and his hand clutched at his throat in the shock of his betrayal. He couldn't bring himself to process that this had been the boy all his hopes had ridden on. But he no longer appeared a boy. His face was contorted in an expression of fury and hatred and his eyes reflected only contempt and deceit.  
"Yes, dear teacher." He mocked, "Ralstin. The little apprentice, always doing his masters bidding and learning his lessons. You hung so many hopes on me that you were blind to the fact that I truly despised the Light. Why do things the hard way and be always on the losing side, when the Darkness has so much to offer for almost nothing in return. Nothing but my soul. And let me tell you oh great one," Ralstin lowered his voice to a whisper, "It was already theirs."  
"How could you betray me?" Merlin asked, his voice choked with unshed tears. "I loved you as a son!!!" his shout rang through the empty chamber, the echoes of his pain and grief going on long after the wizard fell silent.  
Ralstin laughed evilly. "You foolish old man. You're finished. I know your secrets, I know your magic and I know your power." He paused and looked gleefully at Merlin. "You taught them to me."  
He barely had time to allow this information to sink in before Ralstin conjured a great black ball of fire and flung it at him. He was thrown back against the wall with a force that would have killed anybody else. Ralstin knew his magic, he thought dazedly, he had taught it to him- wandless magic, the most powerful of all.  
He knew what must be done. He quickly let go the fact that he had loved Ralstin, he let go all memories of their time together. It was necessary. To defeat him, he had to separate himself from him. It was the only way to win.  
Merlin shook himself and in one moment he brushed aside Ralstin the eager apprentice boy. Instead, there stood before him a tool of the Darkness- one that needed to be defeated.  
Another fireball came his way but he dodged off to the side and got to his feet. The wall behind him crumbled apart.  
"The Darkness demands your soul Merlin!" Ralstin shouted over the noise of crumbling rock and mortar. He prepared yet another ball of black flames. "Your secrets are valuable but not as much as your essence, your spirit!" He flung the flames in his hands at the wizard, who jumped behind a cauldron in the far corner of the hall.  
"My soul?!" Merlin shouted amused. "Has the Darkness become so disillusioned as to think that it would ever possess me?! Ha!!!" His clear voice carried over the crashes of the hall coming down around them. He concentrated his mind on his opponent and stretched out his hand, shaking slightly with his welling power. With a force that shook the foundations of the Earth around him, Merlin raised Ralstin from the ground and flung him through the ceiling. He then levitated himself to follow him outside. He landed in the clearing just outside what had once been a hall of the Light and was now a crumbling wreck. Ralstin stood at the opposite end breathing in gasping breaths but with all the fury of evil dancing in his eyes.  
"Give it up, old man!" He called to him. "I'm just as powerful as you are but younger and stronger. You can't hurt me! No matter what you do."  
Merlin looked at Ralstin almost lazily, a small smile playing on his lips. He prepared the spell in his mind, the one that would finish him off. "Ah! But you forget your lessons, my young apprentice. He who believes himself all powerful, has clearly overlooked his pride, and that will be his downfall."  
Ralstin's eyes grew wide as Merlin began to chant his most recent spell.  
"Esh vamim asartu aduma tavo kesim koluram!" Merlin began to feel a change in his body, as if one of his resources was being used up, he knew that it was only five years of his life being turned into pure light to protect him. He continued his chant. "Esh vamim asartu aduma tavo kesim koluram!" Ralstin was getting ready to attack, the sky was getting dark and the wind blew stronger than before. He raised his hands, preparing to finish Merlin off.   
"ESH VAMIM ASARTU ADUMA TAVO KOLURAM!"  
Ralstin hit just as Merlin was surrounded in an aura of white light made of his own life force. The great ball of Darkness surrounded Merlin for a moment that seemed to last an eternity before rebounding off of him in Ralstin's direction. Merlin heard a scream of pain and defeat and then everything exploded. He was flung backwards and he hit the ground. Green flames came up all around him, destroying everything remotely near the blast. The wind still blew and the rain came pouring down upon the devastation. And then silence.  
When everything cleared away, Merlin stood uncertainly, looking around him for a sign of Ralstin. He let his memories come flooding back to him, and the impact brought him to his knees.  
He had loved him like a son.  
He heard a rustling in the remains of the trees to his right. Merlin rushed over to where an almost lifeless Ralstin came crawling out of the brush on his hands and knees, before toppling onto his side, barely breathing.  
Merlin knelt beside him and held his head in his hands.  
"Ralstin, can you hear me?"  
The traitor's eyes flickered open and for a moment, Merlin thought he could see a remnant of the boy he loved. Then he blinked and it was gone.  
"Ralstin, you can still change your ways. The Light always grants second chances to those who are willing to go back. Say you will return to the Light and that you will throw off the Darkness." He pleaded with him. "Say you will return to me. Say it!!"  
In his last moment of consciousness, Ralstin smiled victoriously. "I am and will forever remain, slave to the dark. You will lose old man. Be sure of that." And with a last contemptuous glance, he fainted into unknowingness.   
Merlin cried out in grief, not only for himself, but for Ralstin and all those wretches to have ever fallen into evil. His own son might as well have betrayed him.  
After a few moments of mourning his lost soul, Merlin stood and again separated himself from Ralstin, releasing and scattering to the winds all of the memories he held of him.  
Ralstin was not dead. Merlin might have killed him there and then, but he decided that death was too lenient a punishment for him. Instead, he called upon the Powers of the Light to banish him from the world of the living. He sentenced him to an eternity of sorrow and suffering- forever to become the Guardian of the Lost Souls- the souls of those that had been given life- the greatest gift of all- only to waste it by causing grief to others. Souls that had surrendered to the ways of evil.   
But though he was banished, he still remained bound to the rules of time and space.  
Merlin stripped his magic from his body and disfigured blackened soul and so all knowledge of Ralstin and his betrayal passed forever from this world.   
Or at least, it should have...  
What Merlin never knew, was that something had survived that fateful battle between Light and Darkness. Indeed it was the Darkness itself that escaped for Darkness may be discouraged for a time, but never quite defeated. It lives in the heart of every living being. Yes, the Darkness survived and carried the knowledge of Ralstin's punishment until it found the proper being to trust it to.  
The secret of the Guardian would still be kept secret, but only until a time when the Darkness would seek to exploit it.  
A time when Darkness was closer to defeating the Light than ever before... 


	2. Dreams and Despair

Chapter one: Dreams and Despair.   
  
A gentle breeze blew on Privet Drive as evening slowly fell and save the soft rustling of the leaves on the trees, all was still and silent. The quiet street had seen many wonders in times past but its occupants had remained oblivious to any and all strange happenings that had occurred there:  
A large triple-decker purple bus appearing with a bang in the dead of night. Small explosions from number 4 Privet Drive. Flying motorcycles years before.   
And a small baby, left on a doorstep, a letter clutched in its tiny fist as three people mysteriously disappeared without a trace. A boy who grew with no idea of his past save the lightning shaped scar on his forehead.  
How he had survived for fifteen years was a mystery Harry Potter pondered as he climbed the stairs to the smallest bedroom, exhausted from a day's work in the garden, pruning the roses and painting the fence. Life had not been kind to him, especially of late, and often Harry found himself wondering if any of it was worth the trouble.  
When these thoughts appeared he chased them away almost as quickly as they'd shown up. Of course it was worth the trouble! Voldemort might have returned years ago.  
"Ah! But he's back now!" A tiny voice in his head would reply. "This time you didn't stop him. If anything, you helped him! Cedric's dead and more people will follow and it's all your fault!" The taunting was enough to drive anyone mad, so it was a very withdrawn Harry that returned to the Dursleys that fateful year for the summer.  
His aunt, uncle and cousin gave him a wide-berth as usual but as little as they cared to notice Harry (unless he did something wrong) even they perceived a change in him, something that frightened them far more than his magic. There was something boiling deep inside him that went much deeper than his guilt or his fear. So deep, that Harry himself barely knew it was there. His power was growing, fueled by his unspeakable hatred of Voldemort and all that he had done. A power of such magnitude that, if left untamed, could consume Harry and everything around him.  
Harry Potter was no longer a little boy.  
He reached his bedroom and staggered over to his bed. He could barely keep his eyes open but he dared not sleep for fear he would dream again. That was another thing. Since the fateful events of his fourth year, Harry had barely had one good night's sleep. He'd lay unconscious; muttering and twitching and occasionally crying out as visions of red eyes and flashing green lights passed through his mind. One dream especially replayed itself over and over, night after night. A terrible pain in his scar, a flash of green light and lifeless gray eyes, staring into oblivion. Cedric- dead. He welcomed consciousness, only to dread the unrelenting taunts of his guilt playing with his thoughts. If he'd done things differently, Cedric would be alive. He shouldn't have let him take the cup. He should have told him to run the moment he knew something was wrong. He should have never been born...  
Everytime he closed his eyes he felt Him watching, waiting for the chance to kill him. Sometimes, Harry wished he'd just get it over with. Even death would be better than the life he was currently living. He barely ate and dreaded sleep. He'd become a mere shadow of his former self in only five weeks.  
Harry sighed deeply as his eyelids began to droop. It would feel so good to sleep. So good to let go. He was so tired, so tired...  
He drifted off into unknowingness. But only for a while...  
The safety of the blackness around him began to swirl, making him remarkably dizzy. He was being thrown around on a dark wind of stale air, almost suffocating him, while the world around became clearer, sharp-edged but bleak. The wind stirred no tree or bush, it could not be heard, in fact the only sign of its presence was its occupation of any breathable air and the dark swirling wisps and tendrils of smoke that blew forward, carrying Harry with them. Breathing was becoming difficult and he gasped for breath as the wind flew him over a place that looked oddly familiar. His stomach turned to ice and he felt he'd be sick when he recognized it as the place where he'd battled Voldemort only 2 months before. And there... right there, that was where Cedric... Harry felt his throat tighten unbearably and he looked away. He'd half expected to see Cedric's body lying there, untouched, intact... but dead.  
The wind continued to carry Harry onward at a great speed. He wondered what it was he sat on. He looked down and studied the strange substance. It was transparent, but barely, and it seemed to repel light and breeze and sound. Harry placed both of his hands on it and pushed. Nothing gave, but Harry started back as if he'd been burned. He'd felt something in there. Something evil, completely evil, something hiding a secret, one that Harry was sure meant only death and destruction. He suddenly found that he wished the wind weren't solid, so he could fall through it and get away, but to no avail. He was a prisoner on an island of blackness, flying through the air towards the unknown.   
Suddenly, he was plunged into darkness. He had no sense of direction whatsoever and for all he knew, he could have been floating upside down. Then slowly, light returned, dim, but light all the same. But what it showed him, Harry would rather not have seen.  
He stood in the center of a great circle of cloaked and hooded figures. They were still and made no sound as they stood, apparently awaiting someone... or something. His breath caught in his chest as he looked around at the Death Eaters, more memories than he wished for flooding back to him at that moment. He gasped for air looking around at them, wondering why they didn't pounce on him and attack. Then all of the hoods turned in the same direction, staring at something behind Harry.   
His heart beating faster than he thought possible, he turned slowly. He already knew who he would see there. He dreaded it, the face that haunted him day and night. His head reeled when he saw him, Voldemort. His lips were twisted back in a grin of purest evil; his eyes held black fire. His sickly white, unnaturally long fingers curled and uncurled, into brittle but strong fists.   
Harry couldn't take this, not now. He was so tired, of everything. But then the demon began to speak and Harry's thoughts were forgotten as his flesh crawled with goose bumps and his hair stood on end.  
"My most "loyal" slaves." He began mockingly. "I have called you here because each and every one of you has failed me. Miserably!"  
The Death Eaters cowered at their master's fury.  
"How did twenty "men", if you truly believe yourselves worthy to be called so, fail to bring me the one thing I truly desire? You were all sent out on the same mission and yet you have the nerve to stand before me, your master, empty handed?! It will not be tolerated! Crucio!" He pointed his wand at the Death Eater nearest him and his screams filled the air around Harry. They were too familiar... too familiar.   
Voldemort lifted his wand and the Death Eater fell to the floor crying like a child. Harry watched as he began to pace around the inside of the circle, eyeing his servants as a vulture eyes its prey. Harry knew. Voldemort was going to kill them all. He suddenly found his legs couldn't hold him and he sank to the floor holding himself tightly to keep from shivering with fear.  
After he made a full circle of the group, he returned to his previous spot and looked upon them all with disgust. "I am appalled," he stated disdainfully, "that not even one of you was able to bring me Harry Potter."   
Harry hugged himself even more tightly. He'd been wondering when his name would come up.  
"I find you all pitiful excuses for servants! You're barely worthy of my time to kill you!" The Death Eaters started up surprised, clearly this had not been what they were expecting, a few of them cried out in surprise.  
Voldemort raised his wand to finish them off, one by one. Harry shut his eyes as tightly as he could, as if that would block the glow of green light. He waited for the screams and thuds as they came crashing down, dead before they hit the floor. But none of those sounds came; only bewildered murmurs. Harry slowly opened his eyes and gasped in surprise, standing up quickly.  
Voldemort was surrounded by the black wind that had carried him earlier. It spiraled around his feet and began to twist its way upward, until it covered him completely. Harry thought he could make out whispers in the dank air, coming from the wind, but he couldn't make out what was being said. And then, the most chilling sound of all, Voldemort began to laugh. But not a soft snicker, or even an evil cackle. His laughter went beyond madness. It was laughter of pure insanity and yet deep down, deadly determination. The wind disappeared, but whether it evaporated or was absorbed into Voldemort's body, Harry didn't know, and he didn't want to know. All he wanted was to get away. Go anywhere else, away from the laughter that rang in his ears, away from the madman that killed for the fun of it, that had destroyed his family, away from himself to where he could be safe.  
Voldemort stopped laughing and Harry saw something glint in his eyes- victory? He then muttered something under his breath, which only Harry heard, but did not understand. "You lose, old man..."  
He laughed again as he raised his wand, and before Harry could look away, began to massacre the Death Eaters that stood there. Screams rent the air and Harry was frozen in terror, looking upon the sight that lay before him. He couldn't move, he couldn't breath. And then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. Twenty Death Eaters lay dead on the ground and Voldemort stood among their bodies, satisfaction eminent on his face.  
"You lose." He muttered one last time and was gone, leaving Harry in the midst of devastation. He tried to look away, but found that he couldn't. He walked over to the nearest Death Eater and removed his mask.  
And screamed. Cedric Diggory stared out at him from the black hood.  
  
"NOOO!!!" Harry sat up straight in bed, drenched in sweat, tears on his face. He looked around his room, so straight, so tidy, so unreal. How could it be that there still existed places in the world oblivious to death and untouched by fear? He was shaking uncontrollably, trembling from head to foot. He couldn't take it anymore; he was only fifteen for heaven's sake! He couldn't handle these things. He shouldn't be expected to. Harry scrunched himself into the tightest ball he could, rocking back and forth and crying, heart rendering sobs that no one heard.  
After a few minutes had passed, Harry lay back down in his bed, still shaking slightly. He wondered momentarily, how it was for other kids to awake from nightmares to find their mothers there to comfort them.   
He didn't have the faintest idea.  
"Mum." He whispered softly to himself as he pulled his covers tightly around him.  
  
The boy who lived then continued to cry himself to sleep. 


	3. Mad Mrs Figg

Chapter 2:

The headache that awoke Harry the following morning was tremendous. Indeed, he felt that a pack of blast-ended skrewts had taken up residence in his head.

The feeling was not pleasant.

Harry squinted his eyes at the sunlight streaming through his window as he crawled out of bed and went over to look in his trunk mirror. A skinny fifteen-year-old looked back at him, puffy-eyed from the night's sleep and yet, exhaustion etched into his every feature. He reached up a hand and pulled back his bangs. 

His scar showed, livid, on his forehead, and Harry knew why. He remembered last night's dream vividly, but he wished he could forget it. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the writhing of the tortured death eater, the dark wind that had carried him. He could still feel the strange feeling he'd gotten when he'd pressed his hands to it. He could see the mad glint in Voldemort's eyes right before he muttered to himself… "You lose old man." And he could still see, quite clearly, the bodies of the twenty death eaters that he had killed mercilessly.

Harry opened his eyes. He didn't want to think about it. But he couldn't stop himself. He'd lifted one of their hoods to find Cedric staring out at him. That, he was certain, had been only a nightmare and not a vision, but the rest…

Harry sighed and began to get dressed.

~*~

"Vernon, I'm so worried! Look at our precious Duddykums! He's practically wasted away!" Aunt Petunia wailed at Harry's Uncle Vernon. Harry rolled his eyes at his aunt's cries as he put the last rind of bacon (which was, needless to say, burnt to a crisp) on his plate.

His aunt and uncle had been in shock when Dudley had come home for the summer. Their son had lost no less than 22.5 kg during his school year. Evidently, the school nurse had had enough and had put him on an even more severe diet than he'd been on the summer before. Not that Dudley really looked that different. He was still the fattest boy Harry had ever known, just not the fattest boy on Earth…

His relatives had been outraged and had complained to anyone they could. How dare they starve their son! Why, he was skin and bones! That entire episode had actually done Harry good. He'd been able to forget, at least for a few minutes, the events of that year, as his uncle screamed himself hoarse on the telephone and his aunt sobbed clutching her only son as if he might blow away in the wind. It had even brought a smile to his face.

But now, the whole thing was beginning to get rather old. Harry woke up every morning to his aunt's incessant wailing and his uncle's annoying comments, as they both stuffed Dudley with as much food as he could eat (which was still quite a bit…).

Harry sighed as his cousin went into another of his raging fits about how he was still hungry and how he'd barely managed to survive all year, which sent his mother into a new torrent of tears.

Harry sat and pondered darkly to himself. 'What a brat', he thought of his cousin. 'They don't even realize that I really barely managed to survive this year.' Harry sighed. 'Not that they'd care…' But even with these thoughts, he couldn't help but wish that he'd had a family that had made such a fuss over him. He'd trade all the fame in the world for parents who worried about him and cared. Sure, he had his godfather, Sirius, but it could never compare to the real thing. When he'd seen his parents come out of Voldemort's wand the year before, it had started a different kind of ache inside him, other than any feelings of guilt or fear. He'd finally truly realized what he'd lost. He'd never known his parents, so he had never really missed them such as Neville Longbottom did, whose parents had been tortured when he was younger. But after that fateful night, he felt as if a part of him were missing. A space in his heart, which should have been filled with love, was empty. And it hurt, ever so much.

He brought his attention back to the breakfast table when his uncle called his name.

"Harry!"

"What, what?" he started.

His uncle turned to his aunt and grumbled, "You see what I mean. They're all loony, every one of them. Mind's off wandering, who knows where?" His beefy relative turned back to Harry with disgust in his eyes. "Go get your things, I said. We're going to take Dudley into London for some new clothes because that damn school hasn't got the sense to feed the students like they should!" At this, Vernon pounded a fist on the table, making the dishes clatter. "We will be staying there for a few days and YOU," he pointed a finger at Harry, "are going to stay with Mrs. Figg. And you're going to BEHAVE YOURSELF!" Once again, he slammed his fist on the table, this time causing a glass to topple off and crash onto the floor.

His aunt, uncle and cousin all glared at him as if it was his fault, and Harry went to retrieve the broom to sweep it up.

~*~

Mrs. Figg lived in a large two story house 4 doors down from the Dursleys. But though No. #12 Privet Drive was big, that certainly didn't mean it was in one piece. 

It had been a while since Harry had stayed there and he looked towards this visit with understandable trepidation. Mrs. Figg was not a person that one would call completely sane. In fact, she was a mad old woman with an uncanny fondness for cats. She ate boiled cabbage for dinner every night and walked around in tattered bedroom slippers and a flowered dressing gown. In addition, she smelled somewhat of old and cheap perfume- all the time…

He stood outside her door, trunk in hand (since he didn't trust the Dursleys enough to leave anything behind), while Vernon Dursley rang the doorbell for the third time, "slightly" annoyed. Finally, Harry heard faint footsteps coming down the hallway and then the door creaked open. Mrs. Figg in all her "splendor" stood before them with a pinched expression on her face. She looked like she'd just swallowed a lemon to be exact.

His uncle gave a sigh of relief and grabbed Harry by the arm. "Here." He said roughly and handed Harry over as if he was nothing more than the morning mail. He then walked away, without a backward glance.

Harry watched him go, torn between relief at being free of his repulsive relatives for a few days and uneasiness at the woman before him.

"Hi." He said in a small and nervous voice.

Mrs. Figg looked him up and down appraisingly. She pursed her lips in a way that reminded him remarkably of Professor McGonagall. "Well? What are you waiting for? Come in. And wipe your shoes on the mat!"

Harry did so hurriedly and walked inside. The house looked and smelled much like it always did; cats and cabbages. He wrinkled his nose in distaste and hurried down the hall after Mrs. Figg. At the end of the corridor was a flight of stairs which she proceeded to climb and once at the top, turned right down a new hallway until she reached the second door on the left.

"Here's your room for the next few days. I hope you don't mind a little bit of clutter." She said, somewhat apologetically.

Harry opened the door apprehensively. "A little bit of clutter" was probably the understatement of the century. There were boxes everywhere, filled with old newspapers, photo albums, articles of clothing and many other odds and ends. In the far corner of the room was a small bed, barely visible under the numerous winter cloaks stacked upon it. The walls were covered in faded beige wallpaper and a dusty desk and bookshelf stood opposite the minute bed.

Harry turned to look at Mrs. Figg. "It's fine. Not cluttered at all." He lied.

Mrs. Figg smiled appreciatively and left him to straighten up his things.

~*~

For dinner that night, Mrs. Figg had decided to be daring. "I hope you like it." She said as she ladled some boiled cabbage onto Harry's plate. Harry groaned inwardly. 

She sat down opposite him and fixed him with a scrutinous stare. Harry shoveled some cabbage onto his fork and brought it to his mouth. He took a deep breath and-

"Mmmm. It's very good."

"I'm so glad you like it dear." Mrs. Figg smiled and began on her food.

Harry thought he might choke.

They ate in silence for a few minutes; each immersed in their own thoughts. Harry was once again thinking about his dream thnight before and suddenly lost his appetite. He put his fork down, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. A pair of red eyes glared back at him. He opened his own again quickly and sighed. He looked up to find Mrs. Figg watching him thoughtfully. She suddenly seemed to come to some resolve in herself and asked casually, "So, Harry. Tough year at Hogwarts?"

Harry sighed. "Yes. I-" He suddenly realized what she had asked him. He gaped at her. "What did you say?" 

Mrs. Figg laughed whole-heartedly. "I said; How was your year at Hogwarts? That is where you go to school isn't it?"

Harry's mouth opened and closed wordlessly a couple of times, before he found his tongue. "Yes, but how do you-"

"Of course, it's the best school for witchcraft and wizardry there is. I went there myself, you know." Mrs. Figg seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.

Harry looked at her in consternation and bewilderment.

"Oh, come now boy. Let's clean up here and I'll tell you everything you want to know." She chuckled and got up to take her plate to the kitchen.

~*~

"It all began 14 years ago I suppose."

They had finished cleaning up and Harry was now sitting on Mrs. Figg's threadbare sofa, listening intently to all she was telling him. Had he not been so focused on what she was saying, he would have thought she looked remarkably funny. It was quite comical to see such a strange loony old woman, bathrobe, haircurlers and all, looking completely serious and so thoughtful. 

"You know of course what happened 14 years ago. Voldemort was defeated by the most unlikely being of all. You." For a moment, Mrs. Figg looked admiringly at Harry and he felt his cheeks go red. She continued. "People were ecstatic. There was celebration throughout the Wizarding world and everything looked like it was going to be alright. But they were wrong." Mrs. Figg sighed and looked ruefully out the window. "I was just as happy as everyone else. But then one night, I received an owl from Dumbledore. I still remember it by heart." She closed her eyes and recited: 

" 'Arabella:

I'm sure you are celebrating along with the rest of the world, but I need you to come to Hogwarts at once. It's an emergency, as you can quite imagine that I would not call you away at such a time otherwise. Your presence is required (very much…)

Thank you.

Your friend and comrade,

Albus Dumbledore.' "

Mrs. Figg looked once again at Harry. "I couldn't imagine what might have been so important as to call me away. My family had been affected so much during the Dark Lord's rule, and when we heard that he'd been defeated, well, I can't describe our joy. I-" Mrs. Figg's eyes glistened over with tears and she stopped speaking for a moment. She took a deep breath and resumed.

"I immediately apparated to Hogsmeade and took a carriage to Hogwarts. Upon finally reaching my destination, I found a house-elf ready to lead me to Dumbledore's office. I entered somewhat nervously as you can imagine." Harry nodded as he recalled the sensation every time he'd gone to the Headmaster. "Inside sat about twenty people. Mostly friends and people I'd known in school. I imagine you know Remus Lupin?" Harry's face brightened considerably upon hearing his old professor's name mentioned. "Anyway, Dumbledore came in to the room and began right away. He said he'd called us there because, contraire to what we might think, Voldemort was not completely defeated. That dampened everyone's spirits, especially mine. He continued though to say that his defeat was temporary and that there was a strong chance that he would return. And when he did, there was no question as to who he would go after first. Under all circumstances, Harry Potter must be protected."

Harry sat listening, open mouthed to all Mrs. Figg was telling him. Dumbledore had always suspected that Voldemort would return. He had known his defeat was temporary. And he had been protecting him from the start. 

Harry suddenly felt very strange. People had been looking out for him since he was a baby. He hadn't been forgotten and abandoned at the Dursleys. He had been placed there for his own protection, and people cared about him… really cared. He felt his throat tighten up as Mrs. Figg continued.

"So the opposition was formed. The Order of the Pheonix. Dumbledore placed all the possible shield wards on the Dursley's home and in addition, decided someone should always be close by, just in case. I volunteered for the job. I felt indebted to you Harry. I'm muggle born, you see, and you know how the Dark Lord hates muggles… Hundreds of muggle families were tortured back then. My family was one of them." Mrs. Figg fell silent.

Harry looked at the old woman standing before him empathetically. He understood how she felt only too well. He knew so many people who were affected by Voldemort as she had been. And yet he admired her bravery and her capability to pull her life together, and he admired her for watching over some ungrateful kid for 14 years, with no thanks from him all that time. Well, now that he knew, he was certainly grateful and meant to tell her so.

"Thank you." He whispered. He found he couldn't use his voice, and tears welled in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away. He cleared his throat. "Thank you." He repeated more normally.

Mrs. Figg smiled at him genuinely. "Oh Harry." She sighed. "You were worth it."

Harry was stunned by this exclamation. He looked at Mrs. Figg wondrously and was quite touched.

"Oh, look at me, going all teary. Well! Don't just sit there boy! Come give me a hug!" She cried and Harry did so, though a little embarrassed. He wrinkled his nose. She still smelled like cheap and old perfume…

He sat back down on the moth eaten sofa. He had tons of questions.

"Uh, Mrs. Figg?" He asked.

"Oh, call me Arabella, all my friends do."

"Oh, ok. Arabella, I want to ask you, how did you manage all these years without magic?"

"Without magic? You silly boy, I'd go bonkers before I'd spend a day without magic! Do you think I'm mad?"

Harry wondered silently at this statement.

"No, I only play the crazy old lady when someone's around. It's amazing what an aging potion can do."

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean, you're not really-?"

"Old?" Arabella finished for him. "No. I'm not. I was at school with your parents, though I was in Ravenclaw. I'm actually about 35 years younger than I really look, though I won't tell you just how old…" She winked at him.

Harry chuckled. "That's incredible. Oh, and I guess you don't really like cabbage that much, that's good, because it's horrible stuff."

Arabella looked hurt. "What? I thought you said you liked it. What's wrong with cabbage?"

Harry had to clamp his mouth shut to keep it from dropping open. Oops… There was a very awkward silence and then… Arabella burst out laughing.

"Oh! You should see the look on your face. I'm sorry, I couldn't resist but I do hate cabbage. I only eat the foul stuff when I have to! But really, you should have seen the look on your face!"

Harry sighed out in relief and laughed as well. This woman reminded him a bit too much of Fred and George when it came to it.

Arabella sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Oh. I haven't had such a good laugh in ages as you can imagine. I do get quite lonely here. But enough about me. What about you? How has life been getting on? I imagine it's been rather difficult living with those monstrosities."

Harry looked down at the carpet. It was an ugly shade of light blue and stained in many places. He concentrated on it instead of letting his mind wander to how he was feeling. He didn't give a damn about the bloody Dursleys. He'd learned to ignore them by now. It was the past year that had been weighing heavily upon his mind. He didn't want talk about, didn't want to relive it all. His guilt and fear were bad enough without talking about them and if he ignored them long enough; they almost went away for a little while.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up to find a very concerned Arabella looking across at him from the opposite sofa. He sat in silence, not wanting to get into a discussion about his life. He found himself an unworthy topic. Why even protect him? He was a failure. That was all therewas to it. Arabella didn't say anything. She understood that something was wrong and didn't press the matter. Harry was grateful.

After five minutes of silence, she got up and went towards the kitchen. She paused by Harry and ruffled his hair.

"If you ever feel like talking, I'm here. But I think I've got a better idea. I know who you'd probably really like to talk to."

Harry looked up at her puzzled.

Arabella had a strange look on her face, an almost wistful one. "Of course, I'd like to talk to him too, now that I know it's alright." She paused and sighed. Harry was still nonplussed. "I'll see what I can do." And with that, she left Harry to his own thoughts.

~*~

Harry awoke the next morning to bright sunshine streaming through the window. Of course, it was only bright outside. The window was rather dirty and the light that filtered through looked gray and unpromising. He was surprised how well he'd slept and even more surprised when he saw that the clock next to his bed read 12:30! The Dursleys had never let him sleep so late. He buried his face back in his pillow, not wanting to get out bed just yet. He was so comfortable! He sighed contentedly, his breath muffled in the pillow. He stretched luxuriously and sat up. He had to wake up, he was hungry. Ravenous, actually, was more like it. He walked over to his trunk, rummaged around and put a shirt on. He then made his way down to the kitchen, from where the delicious smell of waffles and eggs was coming.

He walked in to find a complete stranger making him breakfast.

He looked around, puzzled. Where was Arabella?

The strange woman turned around and smiled at him. Harry's mouth fell open. He knew that smile…

"Mrs. Figg?!" he asked incredulously. The woman before him was about 35 years old. She had dark, straight brown hair, no wrinkles, unless you counted the laugh lines around her eyes, and the most mischievous look about her that Harry had ever seen. Well, not more than Fred and George's but quite close. All in all, a younger and more beautiful version of Arabella Figg stood before him!

"Good morning to you too." She walked to Harry, sat him down in a chair and piled fried eggs onto his plate.

For the second time since his visit, Arabella left him gaping like a goldfish.

"You know," she said, as she got syrup and butter out of the refrigerator that she kept despite her magic, "if I got a sickle every time you looked at me like that, I'd be richer than the Weird Sisters!" She laughed and Harry snapped out of his shocked trance.

"Sorry, I just didn't expect to come down here and find you. I mean, really you, um-" Harry made a lot of hand gestures that meant absolutely nothing, trying to show what he meant causing Arabella to laugh even harder.

"Now I'm richer than Celestina Warbeck too!"

Harry decided it was time to shut up and eat his food.

When Arabella calmed down enough to breathe properly she told Harry, "I didn't take the aging potion today. We're going out!"

"Oh?" Harry asked curiously. "Where to? Diagon Alley?"

Arabella shook her head. "Nope. It's a surprise and I'm not telling you."

Harry was intrigued. Where else could he possibly go?

"Now, when you finish, go upstairs, get dressed and pack your things back up. You'll need your trunk."

Now Harry was really confused. What in Gryffindor's name did he need his trunk for? Who else could he possibly stay with? And why wasn't he going to stay here anymore? Harry was miffed.

"Another sickle to me!" Arabella shouted with a chuckle putting 4 waffles on Harry's plate. "Now eat!" Harry didn't argue and within 6 ½ minutes his plate was completely clean.

Arabella looked at him approvingly. "That's more like it. Eating like a healthy boy your age should! Now, go upstairs and I'll be waiting for you in the living room in ten minutes." And that was that.

Ten minutes later, Harry was dragginf his trunk down the stairs, still utterly in the dark as to where he might be going.

Arabella was waiting in the living room, a bag of floo powder in her hand.

"Ah! Here you are. Well, let's go then." She took a pinch of the magical powder and threw it into the flames. The fire turned a bright shade of green and Arabella pulled Harry forward. Harry groaned. He hated traveling by floo.

"Now, now, none of that. Just hop in and call out 'The Full Moon' and you'll be there before you know it!"

"The Full Moon? Where's that?" But Arabella had already pushed him into the fire and he swallowed a lot of hot ash instead. Somehow, he always managed to do that…

"The Full Moon!" He choked out and immediately he was whirling in a fast circle. He remembered to tuck his elbows in and was just about to throw up when he fell forward, right into someone's outstretched arms.

"Whoa there!" He heard a familiar voice cry out.

It couldn't be!

"Sirius?! Is that you?!"

He quickly removed his glasses, wiped them on his t-shirt and put them back on. His godfather stood before him, looking better than he had in a long time.

"Harry! Good to see you." Harry was pulled into a bone-crushing hug. Apparently, he wasn't the only one eating like a healthy growing boy should! 

Harry pulled away from Sirius and looked up at him happily. "I still don't know what I'm doing here, but I'm happy I'm here. Wherever here is that is…" Gee, he was being remarkably articulate this morning.

Sirius laughed and turned Harry around. He was in a very large study filled with bookcases, three sofas and extremely comfortable looking armchairs. And in the doorway stood none other than his former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Remus Lupin.

"Harry, welcome to The Full Moon."

ANJ Sorry this took so long to update. I'm celebrating Passover, and I'm busy. But now that I have more time (kind of) I'm going to try to update more often! Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thanks! 


	4. At the Full Moon

Chapter 3:  
  
"Sirius! Professor Lupin!" Harry said, still utterly shocked to find himself standing in the same room as his godfather and favorite teacher. Sirius chuckled and Lupin smiled at the look of consternation on Harry's face. "Hello Harry." Said Lupin. "It's been a while since I've seen you, hasn't it? You've grown quite a bit." Sirius held Harry at shoulder length to get a good look at him. For a moment it seemed to Harry that something remarkably similar to sorrow flickered through his eyes, but it quickly disappeared. "Yes, you've grown, I suppose, though I hardly notice it since I saw you two months ago." Sirius fell silent and Harry supposed he regretted bringing it up. The circumstances under which he had last seen his godfather. He didn't want to remember. He quickly changed the subject. "So, the Full Moon, huh? I suppose this is your house then, professor?" "Yes, though the name is new. It was Padfoot's idea." Here he looked daggers at Sirius, but Sirius just laughed. "Aww, Moony! You're not still upset about that, are you? I thought it was actually very funny. "You would, you meddling marauder!" Harry looked from one to the other as they argued. The last time he had seen these two old friends, the situation had been much more serious. He found it very amusing to watch them acting like two quarreling fifteen year- olds, or more precisely, like him and Ron. "Well, you really didn't have to charm it to the house, you know!" "Well, if I hadn't, you wouldn't have called it that, and it suits you! It fits!" "Why I oughta." "What are you going to do, Moony? Growl at me?" "No." Then there was silence. Both parties seemed to be sizing the other up. Finally Sirius spoke. "Well, guess I win!" he said cheerfully. He turned to say something to Harry when. "But I will send you to the pound if you transform!" "Ha!" Sirius shouted. "You wouldn't dare." "Wanna bet?" It looked as though the two of them planned to fight it out there and then and they would have if someone hadn't come flying out of the fireplace right at that moment, straight into Sirius, knocking him down and falling on top of him. Lupin burst out laughing at the position Sirius now found himself in. Harry could only stare. Arabella Figg had been a bit late, but it seemed she had gotten there just in time to break up what had looked to become a spectacular fight. She hadn't done it on purpose, of course, but she'd done it just the same. Indeed Sirius seemed to have forgotten all about Lupin, and even his godson as he found himself underneath this dark eyed brown haired beauty. Lupin began laughing even harder as he saw Sirius' face turn a shade of red that Harry had only ever seen on Ron before. But Harry was even more surprised when he looked up at Arabella only to find her blushing almost as much as Sirius. She quickly got off of him and Sirius stood up as well. They both looked at the floor and simultaneously said "Sorry." And cleared their throats. Lupin was beside himself with mirth. Anyone who didn't know that Sirius wasn't really a murderous killer would have run, screaming for their lives at the look Sirius gave him now. It looked as though another quarrel was on the way but Arabella put a hand on Sirius' shoulder, signaling him to shut up for the time being. "Remus, how are you? You're looking much better." Lupin had calmed down more or less by now, but was still smirking when he answered, "I'm feeling much better, thank you. We were wondering when you'd get here." Arabella smiled and picked up her things, which had tumbled out after she had. "Well, I'm here now, aren't I? So, where's my room? And don't forget about Harry either." Arabella seemed to be back to her brisk, cool-headed self. "As though we would." Muttered Sirius, still extremely embarrassed at what had just happened. "Come on Harry," he said, recovering slightly, "I'll show you were you'll be staying." Harry took his trunk and followed Sirius out the study door. As he passed Lupin, Sirius glared at him and promised him that he'd get back at him later for this. Lupin just smiled cheerfully and said, "Arabella, I'll show you to your room." "Wonderful!" She replied and followed suit.  
  
The Full Moon was located far away from any towns or villages; it was actually a large estate in what most people would call "the middle of nowhere". It was very big. It consisted of ten bedrooms, each with an adjoining bathroom, a study, library, dining room, a kitchen that Mrs. Weasley would have reveled in, a living room, and even a small conservatory at the back. Harry, who knew that Lupin wasn't exactly what one would call rich, asked him how he had discovered the place. Lupin had answered that it actually belonged to a very distant cousin, who had let him borrow it for the summer. It was unplottable and so, very safe. Though he added that his cousin would NOT be very pleased about his home's new irrevocable name. Harry's bedroom was triple the size of his room at the Dursley's. It had thick blue carpet, floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the valley behind the house, a large four-poster bed that reminded him of his bed at school in the center of the room and shelves filled with various leather- bound books that looked much more interesting than the ones in the smallest bedroom back at Privet Drive. Hermione would have died to get her hands on some of them. In his first two days there Harry met a few other people staying at the Full Moon as well. There was Mundungus Fletcher, a 45 year-old ministry worker who thought that Fudge was a complete ignoramus and spent half of his time ranting about the things he'd read in the paper. Then there was Su-Ling San, a 38 year-old Asian witch who specialized in History of Magic and magical amulets. She was kind of a loner, and spent most of her time out back; gardening or practicing something called Kempo. Whatever that was. Octavious Fiddle was a good-humored man of 31. He had been in training to become an auror when Dumbledore had asked him to join the Order. He played a magical violin called Sissy, and everyone liked to call him Strings. And finally, there was 43 year-old Cyril Crenshaw, the only Slytherin to have ever been known to transfer to Gryffindor in the history of Hogwarts. Sirius told Harry that Cyril's parents had been killed in his fourth year by none other than the Dark Lord himself for failing to complete his instructions. Indeed, Cyril's parents had been Death Eaters, and though Cyril had never really intended to follow in their footsteps, he had still acted like any typical Slytherin would. When they had died though, something snapped and, as Sirius told it, he had marched straight up to Dumbledore's office and demanded to be sorted anew. The Sorting Hat had placed him in Gryffindor. Cyril hated Voldemort more than anything, and even though his parents had been on the bad side, he'd still loved them and now did everything he could to bring the Dark Lord's defeat. Fletcher, Su-ling, Fiddle, Crenshaw, Figg, Lupin and Black. These were some of the people that Dumbledore had referred to as "The Old Crowd" at the end of Harry's fourth year. Harry remembered now that the Headmaster had mentioned them to Sirius and wondered that he hadn't recognized the name "Figg" when it had been mentioned. Not everyone was staying with Lupin, though. There were around 14 more wizards and witches that Dumbledore had assembled the fateful night that Voldemort had been seemingly defeated. They were "The Order of the Phoenix"; brought together to ensure that the Dark Lord would never rise to full power as he had all those years ago. Sirius was, of course, a new addition, being as he had been unfairly charged with murder at the time the Order was formed. But they all now believed in his innocence since Dumbledore had vouched for him, and they all trusted Dumbledore more than they trusted themselves, and almost every one of them had something to thank the wizened old wizard for. All in all, it looked to become a very interesting summer for Harry and he was seriously looking forward to it. He hadn't been really happy in two and a half months, and spending time with his godfather was definitely going to be soothing to his spirit. A gloomy and unpromising Sunday, a week after Harry had arrived, found Harry already acquainted with the strange entourage of people staying with Lupin. Sirius had introduced him personally to each one of them and Harry didn't think he'd ever met a more comical group of grown-ups. They sure never acted their age. He found he preferred it that way as it made it much easier to get to know them. The only time Harry ever saw them all together was at the breakfast table. Harry already knew that Arabella was a good cook (when she wasn't making cabbage) but it came as a huge surprise when, on his first morning there, Sirius put a plate of hash-brown potatoes, eggs and sausages before him that tasted as good as anything Hogwarts could ever come up with. It turned out that Sirius had spent a remarkable amount of time in the kitchens when he'd been a student and, though he'd never admit it, Arabella told him that the house elves had given him many a cooking lesson and Sirius had been only too eager to learn. That was another thing. Harry may have been a teenage boy, but he wasn't as clueless as Ron was. He'd been noticing strange things between Arabella and his godfather. Their behavior reminded him so much of Ron's and Hermione's everyday conduct that sometimes he had to try very hard to convince himself that he wasn't actually watching his two best friends having one of their blazing rows. They found even sillier things to fight about than his schoolmates, and it was making him wonder. On the morning in question, Harry came down to breakfast and the usual quarreling that was always to be heard at the table. Even worse, there were sounds of strangled shouts coming from the kitchen and as Harry drew closer, his fears were confirmed. For some strange reason unbeknownst to any normal human being, Arabella and Sirius had decided to make breakfast together. Harry sat down in his seat and then groaned as the sound of a dish breaking and a frustrated scream came from the direction of the kitchen. "Oh dear," said Su-ling from across Harry, "here we go again." "Good morning all." Came Fiddle's cheerful voice as he sat down next to her. Another shout was heard as the sound of a second dish being broken carried into the room. "Aha!" Fiddle smiled mischievously. "I understand that the two lovebirds have decided to band together to make breakfast. How splendid!" Mundungus Fletcher snorted into his coffee at the head of the table. He quickly immersed himself in his morning paper. "Now, now Strings. I'd think you'd be happier. No matter the means, I'm sure today's breakfast will be delicious." Lupin said as he sat down next to Harry. "Yeah, and at least they're banding together for something. It's about time." Cyril muttered from his place at the opposite end of the table. The sound of someone snorting into their coffee could be heard once again from behind Fletcher's paper. He wasn't the only one though. Su-ling almost choked on her orange juice and everyone else sniggered. Harry was silent, thinking. It was as he expected. It did seem that his godfather and Arabella had some sort of history. But he was incredibly curious to know exactly what it was. Another crash from the kitchen and everybody groaned. Things were starting to get ridiculous. "So," began Harry, determined to get the information out of somebody, "what is the story with the two of them?" Everyone jumped as though just realizing that Harry was there. Fletcher put down his paper. Harry looked at them all expectantly. Come to think of it, he didn't really know any stories about his godfather or his parents when they were younger. This one would be the first. Everyone exchanged glances. Lupin and Cyril smiled and Su-ling chuckled. It was Lupin that spoke first. "Well, I know basically the whole story as Sirius and I were very close, but everyone here knows a bit about it. Your godfather met Arabella at school in his fourth year. He was showing off to a bunch of Hufflepuff girls when she walked by. Thank Gryffindor I was there, because Sirius started acting like the biggest prat I've ever had the pleasure to meet and it was spectacular. He completely ignored the Hufflepuffs and started following her there and then and I swear he was drooling!" Everyone laughed. Lupin continued. "That is, he followed her until he walked straight into a door that McGonnagal had just opened and smashed his face in, in front of everyone! What an idiot he acted like from then on! Arabella had seen him following her like a sick puppy," here Harry laughed as he knew exactly what Sirius would look like as a sick puppy, "and from then on, she had Sirius on the end of a tight leash." Harry laughed even harder, just imagining the scenario. Sirius on a leash?!. "She'd really collared him!" Everyone was laughing now, as they all knew about Sirius' animagus form. When Lupin had calmed down he continued. "Finally, in our sixth year, she felt sorry for him and from that day until we finished school they were inseparable. But after we finished Hogwarts they lost touch and went their separate ways. When Sirius was charged with murdering Peter," here everyone made a disgusted face, "she was devastated. She came to me and told me it couldn't be true. She knew him and wouldn't believe he'd done it." Lupin sighed. "I would have done better to listen to her." He fell silent. Everyone at the table was quiet. Harry sat deep in thought. No wonder they were so weird with eachother. They really were like Ron and Hermione, but Harry figured it would take Ron an eternity before he figured it out and starting acting just as much as a prat as Sirius had. Not that he didn't act like prat now. A sudden explosion made everyone gasp and they were all up from the table in a flash. "It came from the kitchen." Said Cyril. They all made their way in the direction of the explosion and carefully opened the kitchen door. The sight that met their eyes was incredible. Pots and pans were everywhere. Shards of glass, pieces of ceramic plates, cutlery. Then there was pancake batter splattered on the walls, egg yokes here and there, and fried beans had somehow found their way to the ceiling. Milk sloshed all over the floor and rinds of bacon were stuck to the windowpanes. But the best of all, the cherry on top of the whipped-cream, was the pair that stood in the center of the room. Arabella and Sirius stood there, each holding out their wand, looking completely baffled and speechless and each of them covered from head to foot in various foodstuffs. Arabella had batter all over her face, bacon and a fried egg in her hair, and an unidentifiable sauce all down her front. Sirius on the other hand, seemed to have favored the chocolate, which was all over his hair and face while a pancake had landed on his head and a napkin had stuck to his cheek, there was a rind of bacon on his shoulder. Harry and everyone else stood utterly speechless at the sight. A final dish clattered to the floor and broke. Sirius gulped. "Breakfast anyone?" ~*~ Staying at Lupin's was definitely having a positive effect on Harry. He'd been sleeping much better ever since he'd arrived. Perhaps it was the fact that he was staying in a place with 7 adult wizards. Harry didn't know but he was grateful all the same. The day after the "Breakfast War", as they had all decided to call it, Harry wrote to Ron and Hermione telling them that he was alright and that he was staying with Snuffles and Lupin. He explained about Arabella Figg and how she'd been watching over him all those years. He told them all about the other guests, as well as the incident the previous morning. He could just imagine Ron's expression when he read about it. He'd probably crack a rib from laughing so hard. He wasn't all that sure that he hadn't done the same thing. After the initial shock had worn off none of them could calm down. It was worse than having someone mess up a cheering charm on you. The days passed peacefully and uneventfully, for which Harry was grateful. He'd had enough action and excitement to last a lifetime. The only news from outside came in the form of Fletcher's newspapers everyday. But from what Harry read, nothing seemed to be happening at all. It was eerily still in the Wizarding world. Not that Harry wanted something to happen, but it scared him what Voldemort might be doing all this time that he wasn't attacking. Gathering strength? Planning something horrendous? It was a stillness filled with tension, almost like the silence before a storm, and Harry didn't like it at all. ~*~ One morning Harry went down to breakfast to find the dining room empty. He looked around confusedly. Where was everyone? He went to the kitchen, hoping that he wouldn't find anything similar to the other day. But no one was there either. Harry wondered at this as he went back to the dining room. Where could they all be? He rounded the corner to the dining room, deep in thought, and almost jumped out of his skin when everyone suddenly jumped out at him from behind the table. "SURPRISE!" Harry gaped around the room in shock. In the few seconds he had gone to the kitchen, the room had been filled with balloons, streamers, ribbons and other colorful decorations. There was a huge cake in the center of the table. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" How could he have forgotten?! It was indeed July 31st today, his birthday! He wondered at his forgetfulness as Sirius rushed up to him and gave him a bone-crushing hug. "Happy birthday Harry!" He said. "So glad I finally got to be with you for one." "Sirius, I- I don't know what to say." Harry was still getting over the shock. He'd never had a birthday party before, let alone a surprise party. "How about- Where are my presents?" offered Fiddle helpfully. "Or- Let's eat the cake!" Put in Cyril. "I know!" exclaimed Arabella. "How about, I'm hungry! Where's breakfast?" Su-ling hit her on the head with a balloon. "You're not allowed to mention breakfast anymore. We've forbidden it." Everyone laughed. "Thank you." was what Harry replied in the end as it seemed most appropriate and was the only thing he could think of to say. They all spent the morning laughing and joking, telling stories about when they were kids. It was the best birthday Harry had ever had. But the best part, by far, was the presents. They all sat down around the table and put a huge pile in front of Harry. He could see one from Sirius, Lupin and, to his surprise, one from Ron, one from Hermione and even one from Hagrid. He looked at Sirius questioningly. He laughed. "Three damn owls woke me up last night at one o'clock in the morning! Got the wrong window." Harry chuckled. He reached for Ron's present first and opened the card attached. 'Dear Harry [it read] I got your letter and it's good too, because mum had already started to worry about you. I told her you were probably fine, but you know mum. She likes to worry about everything. Anyway, did Snuffles really blow up the kitchen?! I couldn't stop laughing when I read it! I told Fred and George about it too and they said that their next prank is dedicated to him. I think it's going to be big, they haven't come out of their room since except at meals. They said they had to work hard to top it now. Dunno Harry, I think we're going to have to be real careful. The whole family knows about Snuffles now, since mum met him. Would you believe it?! She's taken to worrying about him now! Anyway, enjoy your present and Happy Birthday! Ron' Harry smiled as he folded the card and put it back in its envelope. Sirius would definitely laugh when he heard about the twins and about Mrs. Weasley. He took the parcel that Ron had sent and unwrapped it. He burst out laughing when he was through. Ron had sent him a moving model of Aidan Lynch on a broomstick continuously performing the Wronski Feint and crashing as he reached the ground. It was brilliant. Next, he took Hermione's letter and opened it. 'Dear Harry [it read] Happy Birthday! I received your letter and was very relieved that you were ok. I kept sending you letters but didn't get answers and I was really worried. Did Snuffles really do that? That was very childish of him.' (Harry rolled his eyes.) ' I hope Professor Lupin and Snuffles are well. Please say hi to them both from me. Oh! I didn't go to Bulgaria; my parents wouldn't let me. But please don't tell Ron? I'll tell him when I feel like it. He's been acting like a three-year-old all summer. Sending me letters every other day, checking up on me, no doubt! It's ridiculous. I hope you have a good summer! Happy Birthday! Hermione PS: I got made a prefect! McGonnagal sent me the letter yesterday!' "Good job Hermione." Harry said as he finished. It was really no surprise at all though. What did surprise him was that she didn't want Ron to know about Bulgaria. He wondered why. He decided it was useless to puzzle out the way Hermione's brain worked and pulled her present over. As expected, it was a book. But Harry laughed when he realized which. Hermione probably hadn't known the full meaning of her present. She'd sent him "Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch your friends and befuddle your enemies with the latest revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More)" by Professor Vindictus Viridian. This was the book he had wanted so much to buy his first time in Diagon Alley. He chuckled as he rifled through the pages. A note fell out. 'Harry, [it read] Even the simplest curses can come in handy sometimes, and I thought this might be useful. You never know.' Harry smiled. Hagrid had sent him some rock cakes, which Mundungus Fletcher foolishly tried to eat, and a Hippogriff talon on a key-chain. Su-ling gave him a rare magical amulet, which she said was supposed to strengthen any shielding charm cast by the wearer. Fiddle gave him a magical watch (which was lucky, as Harry still hadn't replaced the old one) that was very similar to the one at the Weasley's. Fletcher, after hearing that Harry didn't already have one, had gotten him a subscription to the "Daily Prophet". Arabella had made the cake, which was a spectacular seven layer, chocolate, vanilla and raspberry masterpiece to top all cakes ever baked. Harry had never tasted anything so wonderful in his life. He was sure it had been charmed. Cyril placed a lumpy package in front of Harry. "Here you go, kid. I hope you like it." Harry opened the package carefully. Inside was something red and yellow and very familiar. Harry pulled out a long Gryffindor scarf. The only difference between this one and his was that this one was slightly faded and rather frayed in some places. "I hope you don't mind hand-me-downs." Cyril said apologetically. "Who's was it?" Asked Harry curiously. Cyril smiled and he seemed to drift to some distant time long before as he answered, "It was mine." Harry looked from Cyril to the scarf wonderingly. "You're giving me your Gryffindor scarf?!" Cyril nodded. "Why?" He chuckled. "Because I don't use it anymore, and I can't imagine anyone else I'd ever want to give it to. This scarf means a lot to me, but I'd really be proud if you would where it." There was a moment of silence and then Harry nodded. That was all, but it was more than any 'thank you' could express. Sirius and Lupin were next. They both put two small packages in front of Harry. "We are each giving you something different." began Sirius. "But both come from the same roots." "Over the years we've kept them safe, until the time we found fit to give them to you." Continued Lupin. Then Sirius spoke again. "Before your parents died, they left in our possession something of theirs, something they loved dearly to give you in case they could not. Your mother left something with Remus and your father, with me." "We give them to you now. Keep them well. Keep them safe, and one day, perhaps you can give them to your children." Finished Lupin. Harry looked from one to the other in shock. Something that belonged to his parents?! His parents had saved something for him before they died?! He- what could it- what could they possibly-? His eyes started to sting and he blinked furiously. He reached out a shaking hand and took the first package, the one from Lupin. He carefully removed the wrapping paper and then opened the box inside. In it was a simple necklace made of silver, and on it was a small pendant, shaped like a winged angel. It sparkled like nothing Harry had ever seen before and he was sure it was charmed. And when Harry looked closer, he could just make out a tiny pearl teardrop on its cheek. It was so beautiful, and yet it seemed so sad that it made him hurt inside. It made Harry wonder, what could have made this little angel cry. Without even realizing, he sighed. "Harry?" Came a distant voice. He looked up, dazed. "Huh?" Sirius looked down at him with worry, but Lupin seemed to understand. He gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "Come on Sirius." he said. "Now you." Sirius obliged and handed Harry his gift. Harry took a deep breath and took it from him. This too was a box and Harry opened it slowly. He gasped. Inside was a golden pocket-watch in the shape of a lion's head and mane. It's eyes were small delicate rubies that caused the lion's eyes to seem as though they were on fire and it's mouth was gaping open in what would have been a spectacular roar had it been real. He opened it to find a round opal watch with intricate designs of the moon and stars in midnight blue. "The stars change as the seasons do." Said Sirius from behind him. And then "Look under the cover." Harry lifted up the top and looked under to find the following engravings there. Samuel T. Potter 1683 Devon S. Potter 1710 Thomas T. Potter 1737 Martin D. Potter 1767 John H. Potter 1791 Harold U. Potter 1819 Geoffrey C. Potter 1846 Samuel G. Potter 1872 Tobias J. Potter 1896 Timothy G. Potter 1919 George Z. Potter 1941 James T. Potter 1964 And finally, at the bottom was: Harry J. Potter 1986 Harry gaped up at Sirius, openmouthed. "Sirius!" He finally let out breathlessly. "Are all these- Were all these my-?" "Yes." He answered. "This watch has been passed down to each first born son of the Potter line since 1683, over 300 years. The year is the year each was born." Sirius smiled. "I remember the day they had you, Harry. James was so excited, he couldn't stop jumping around the room. Then he sat me down and showed this to me. He added your name right there and spoke about the day it'd be yours, and the day you'd give it to your son." Harry looked at the names again. Since 1683! 300 years old! And somehow, he had managed to earn himself a place with all of these people and with his father. There it was: 'Harry J. Potter' right underneath 'James T. Potter'. The names were charmed on, to ensure that there would always be a place for the next Potter. Something clicked inside Harry. Everything just fell into place. He breathed as though he hadn't truly breathed in three months, and a huge weight was lifted from his heart. There was something worth living for. He had to stop feeling guilty about what had happened or he'd go crazy. There were people that loved him, His godfather, Lupin, and his parents had loved him very much. It wouldn't be right, if after 300 years the last Potter went and got himself killed, or went mad. How could he do that to the people that loved him? How could he do that to the generations before him? He couldn't and he wouldn't! Harry smiled. "Dad." He whispered and closed the watch. He looked up at Sirius and Lupin. "Thank you, for keeping these for me. And I'm sure, wherever they are, my parents thank you as well." Sirius and Lupin seemed a bit taken by surprise by the last statement and for a moment they both seemed to drift off in thought. Then they smiled and Lupin said, "You know. They're probably watching right now." They all fell silent, but the silence was broken a moment later when the sound of an owl could be heard fluttering through the hall. A second later, a large tawny school owl fluttered into the room carrying a small package and a note. It landed in front of Harry and stuck out its leg expectantly. Harry quizzically untied the parcel and the owl took off and flew back out the way it had come. He looked down at the note in his hand and unfolded it. "Dear Harry, [it read] I'm glad to wish you a very happy birthday. I expect it shall be marvelous. The package contains a small gift that I imagined would come in rather useful, though I truly hope you will not again find yourself in a situation where you will need it. Happy Birthday, Albus Dumbledore" "It's from Dumbledore." Harry said wondrously. "Oh?" said almost everyone in the room. His curiosity piqued, Harry opened the package from his headmaster. Inside was a small vial of what were unmistakably phoenix tears! Harry could never forget the pearly white substance that had saved his life in his second year. But Harry shuddered as he realized what this meant. The headmaster wouldn't have sent him this if he hadn't been suspicious of Harry once again finding himself in mortal peril as the year went by. Well, what had he expected? Voldemort was back now and he'd be after him. It was probably going to be a wonderful year. He could just imagine it. Looking over his shoulder everywhere he turned. Always wondering where Voldemort was right then and there, wondering if he might just be hiding around the next corner. "What is it?" Sirius asked him. "What's wrong?" Harry held out the small vial to his godfather. "Phoenix tears." He muttered. "What?!" Lupin exclaimed. He took the little glass and held it to the light. "But, Harry, do you know what phoenix tears are for?" "Yeah." He replied. "I should. They saved my life in my second year." "Why would Dumbledore send you phoenix tears?" Asked Sirius, puzzled. Lupin gave Harry a piercing look. "Dumbledore wouldn't have sent this to you unless-" Harry cut him off. "Unless he thought there was a reason." He sighed. "No sense in pretending it's not going to happen, professor." Everyone around the table looked at him. "It will. Voldemort's coming after me, and there's nothing we can do to stop him." 


	5. Homes

Chapter 4:

The days seemed to fly by at the Full Moon so that in no time at all Harry had already been there two and a half weeks. During that time, Harry met many other people from the Order besides those who were staying with Lupin. They came and went. It seemed to be that Lupin's was a halfway house of sorts. Those of the Order who were on assignment could stop at Lupin's for a night's sleep and a good meal before continuing on their way the following morning. 

Everyone that Harry had met in his first two days were regulars there. They were in charge of researching ways to defeat the Dark Lord and gathering information about where his location might be. But Sirius, Lupin and Cyril were there for different reasons.

Lupin was there because he was in charge of the house, and since he'd have trouble travelling because of the small and almost insignificant matter of his being a werewolf.

Sirius stayed because of all the obvious reasons, even though he still ventured out once in a while in dog-like form.

But Cyril also had to stay back for his own protection. His old school friends were all working for Voldemort now, and none of them were very happy with him…

When September came, a different group from the Order would get time off and research and Fiddle, Fletcher, Arabella and Su-Ling would all would go back to the real work. The way they carried on, it was easy to tell that they all hated being assigned to do research and were dying to go back to the hectic life that came with being part of the Order.

Harry marveled at the precision with which the Order worked. Dumbledore had chosen well, those wizards best equipped to get the job done. The ministry, as Fletcher would often rant, knew nothing of them, knew nothing of how many attacks were being prevented because a small group of people were doing everything in their power to stop them. Fudge was an idiot, Fletcher liked to say, and it was a sad day that the bungler stepped up to take the job.

But all in all, it was a quiet life that the research division of the Order led, and Harry felt he hadn't had so much peace in ages.

He was having a wonderful summer. His conscience tormented him less and less, and the awful dreams that had been plaguing Harry, were fewer and far in-between. He had needed to spend the summer with people who loved him and for once, Harry had gotten something that he wanted.

~*~

It was a sunny Tuesday, in his second week at the Full Moon, that Harry came down to breakfast to find a tiny annoying owl fluttering around the dining room, deeply bothering Su-Ling, who was trying to meditate, to no avail. 

Using his fine-tuned seeker abilities, he snatched the irritating fluff ball that was Pig from the air. The owl beat his wings ecstatically in Harry's grasp and hooted twice in pride at having completed his job. Harry gave an exasperated sigh and proceeded to remove the minute letter attached to Pig's leg. He opened it and smiled as he read the contents.

"Good morning everyone," Sirius said as he walked jauntily into the room. Harry looked up and grinned at him.

"Hey, Sirius," he replied cheerfully.

Sirius looked down at the miniscule note. "What's that?" He winked. "Girlfriend perhaps?"

Harry turned beet red and shifted uncomfortably in his seat while Sirius chuckled. 

"No," he said pointedly. "It's from Ron. He wants to know if I can go with him to get my stuff in Diagon Alley." 

"Sure, why not?", Sirius poured himself a cup of coffee. "When is he going?"

Harry glanced at the note once again. "Um, in two days. The whole Weasley family is going together." 

Sirius suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Oh. Harry, well, two days from now I was actually planning to do something with you."

Harry looked confused. "With me? What?"

Sirius looked even more uncomfortable. "Well, uh, that's the thing. It was supposed to be a surprise." He looked at the floor. "If you really want to go with Ron, then that's alright, I just hope I can find another day to take you, that's all."

Harry was intrigued, and he much preferred whatever it was Sirius was planning to Diagon Alley. "That's fine, Sirius, " he said cheerfully. "I'll tell Ron I can't make it. Anyway, Arabella said she'd take me into London whenever I needed. I can go with her some other time."

Sirius looked considerably happier and relaxed visibly. "Wonderful. That's great. I'm just a bit busy lately and, well…" Sirius smiled. But Harry did notice that his eyes weren't as bright as they usually were. Indeed, Sirius had been working hard lately, staying up late into the night, working on different plans that Dumbledore told him about, and sometimes even venturing out in his dog form, to learn what he could about Death Eater activity. 

Harry didn't like seeing Sirius so tired, working so hard. It took a lot out of him, and Harry thought that what Sirius deserved more than anyone was just a bit of rest and a vacation.

Harry shook his head slightly and went to get a quill. When he found one he sat back down and wrote to Ron about why he couldn't come, and that he'd see him on the Hogwarts Express in two weeks. He then settled down to eat the delicious breakfast Arabella had prepared. Next to him, Sirius was wolfing everything down as quickly as he possibly could.

"Er, Sirius?" Fiddle asked from across the table.

"Hmph?"

"Did you eat anything yesterday?"

Sirius swallowed his mouthful and looked at Fiddle, puzzled. "Of course, why?"

Fiddle looked down at his own plate, which was still quite full. "Oh, no reason…"

Sirius shrugged and continued to meticulously clear his plate. In two minutes he was done. Nobody else had touched their food as they watched Sirius eat. It was remarkable, really, how all that food had been there just a second before…

When the last scrap was gone, Sirius got up from the table and with a swift "Have a nice day," was out the door, only seconds before Arabella walked in carrying a tray of freshly baked muffins. She set the tray down on the table and looked at Sirius's empty plate and spot. She looked severely annoyed.

"Trying to avoid me, is he?" she mumbled to herself, hands on her hips. And with that she spun on her heel and was out the door on Sirius's tail.

The table occupants all grinned at eachother and continued to busy themselves with their meal.

~*~

The next two days passed in serene happiness. Su-Ling let Harry watch her practice Kempo, and it really was very cool. He had a very interesting conversation with Sissy (Fiddle's fiddle) about famous personas that had owned her and her cousin Cilia (a glamorous contra-bass).

But of course the strangest thing was watching Arabella and Sirius. Everytime those two ran into each other, awkwardness ensued. It was laughable, really… They'd both mumble about the weather and look at the floor before turning their separate ways. It had been like that for a while and Harry wondered if the situation would ever improve.

Then, the night before Sirius's surprise, Harry was walking up to bed when he passed by the study. The door was slightly ajar and he could hear voices carrying from inside. He wasn't going to listen until he happened to hear some of what was being said, and who was saying it. Arabella.

"Sirius, I meant what I said the other day. I really have missed you."

Harry stopped and listened intently.

Arabella continued. "You don't know what these past years have been like. I knew you could never have done it. But when I saw that even Remus believed you were guilty, I guess I just didn't have the strength to say otherwise anymore. The worst was, deep in my heart I still knew they were all wrong, and I felt like I was betraying you as well as myself. It hurt me to not be able to talk about you and to act like I was sorry that I had ever, I had ever…" Arabella trailed off. Her voice had gone softer than Harry had ever heard it. "That I had ever loved you," she finished in a whisper.

Harry drew in a surprised breath.

"I'm so sorry." His godfather's voice cracked as he spoke, as though he was on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry for how I've acted these past weeks, and I'm sorry I caused you pain." There was a pause. "Remus told me what happened the day they threw me in Azkaban…" There was another pause, and Harry could picture the vacant expression that Sirius's eyes had taken on. "All those years, I thought you believed what everyone said. I didn't think it was possible for anyone to believe otherwise. All those years, I thought you'd never forgive me." Sirius coughed. "It was harder to bear than the Dementors."

Harry heard Arabella give a dry sob.

"Don't cry," Sirius said, sounding worried. "Please, don't cry because of me. I never wanted to make you cry," he pleaded.

"Oh, Sirius, I'm not crying because of you." Harry could hear her smiling. "You're the last person in the world who could ever make me cry. It's just," she laughed, a harsh, pained laugh, "To think all those years were wasted because of a two-faced coward who didn't have enough brains to fill a spoon. You would have never thought someone like that could cause so much trouble. Oh, Sirius, it's almost more than I can bare!"

"Shhh. I know." Sirius comforted her, his voice muffled as though his face was buried in her hair. "That traitor has a lot to answer for. And one day, I will make him pay." His voice was filled with a deadly determination that sent a chill up Harry's spine.

"Sirius?"

"Hmm?"

"I really did miss you."

Harry decided he'd invaded his godfather's privacy enough, and he tiptoed away as quietly as he could, smiling to himself as he went up to bed.

~*~

The following morning, Harry was up at the crack of dawn out of excitement. He couldn't wait to go wherever Sirius was going to take him. His imagination was working over-time trying to imagine all the possibilities. He lay in bed for at least an hour, letting his mind wander here and there, before deciding it was useless. He got out of bed and got dressed, viewing himself in the mirror before going downstairs. He had grown in the past year or so, and playing Seeker for Gryffindor had done wonders for his frame. He was no longer the scrawny little boy that had left the Dursley's four years ago. He was quite tall, though not nearly as tall as Ron, and all in all, he didn't think he was all that bad looking. The glasses were a bit of a bother, but he actually had gotten rather used to them. His hair was just as unmanageable as ever, but hey, life wasn't perfect…

Harry walked downstairs and checked to see if anyone was up yet. They weren't, so he proceeded to walk out to the garden. There was an old wooden swing a small distance from the house, and it was to there Harry went and sat down, swinging slowly, the morning breeze blowing his hair and lifting his bangs to reveal the lightening shaped scar on his forehead. His gaze was unfocused and his thoughts wandered in every which direction.

His fourth year hadn't been all that bad, the whole Voldemort incident not included, and Harry hadn't really thought much about it. His classes had been very interesting, besides Snape's, Trelawney's and Binn's of course. He had great friends; he'd had his share of adventure and excitement that one had to expect when attending Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He'd been Triwizard Champion, even though that had led to the year's climax. The kitchens and house-elves, S.P.E.W, the Yule Ball…

The Yule Ball. Harry's thoughts began to take direction. The Yule Ball had been a slight disaster. He must have been the worst dance-partner ever. So much for his first date. He had a slight suspicion that Parvati would always resent him for that one. But it had been hard, when the only person he'd wanted to be there with had been Cho, and she'd been with Cedric.

Cho and Cedric.

Harry sighed, his eyes staring gloomily off into the horizon. He leaned his head against the side of the swing. Poor Cho, she'd been devastated when Cedric had died. If he closed his eyes, he could see her tear-streaked face at the Leaving Feast. But Harry still couldn't help realizing that his stomach no longer did that funny twist when he thought of Cho. Harry knew why. He'd never be able to look at her again without feeling some pang of guilt. And no matter how much people told him it wasn't his fault, in some small way, he'd always feel it was.

Harry took a deep breath. The air smelled so good. Damp and fresh and morningish. Exactly what a new beginning should smell like. He loved it when the air was like that. It always made him feel so full of hope. He stopped thinking about the past and focused his thoughts on the future. He wondered what was in store for him there. He had his friends and he had school, but would either be the same after the events of the past year? He didn't know. His friends, he knew, would always be there for him to comfort him and keep him going, but school… he didn't think things were going to be exactly the same as before. He highly suspected that less students would be attending this year and he also knew that many of the teachers would be missing, either quit or on assignments for Dumbledore. Many of the schoolteachers were part of the order. Sirius had told him.

Sirius. 

Harry smiled. His summer had been everything he had always expected it to be. And he was happy Sirius and Arabella had "patched things up". Harry had marveled at the fact that the past weeks, just seeing his godfather happy had made him happy as well. Just watching Sirius smile always made him want to jump up and down shouting, "Sirius Black is my godfather!" But the truth was, Sirius was more than that. Sirius was like a second father to him, though no one could ever take his real father's place. And Lupin, well Lupin was like an uncle! Harry laughed, his voice breaking the serene silence of the morning. The way Sirius and Lupin acted it wouldn't be hard for anyone to mistake them for brothers…

"Harry? Are you out there?"

Arabella's voice carried across the large garden from where she stood, framed in the back doorway leading to the kitchen, a large purple spatula in her left hand. Harry sighed contentedly and stood up, stretching his arms out in back of him. 

"Be right in!" He called back to her. He saw her bustle back inside, waving the spatula like a wand.

Harry looked around him and then up at the house. The Full Moon, he decided, was the closest thing he'd ever had to a home. Too bad it wasn't permanently Lupin's.

With one last glance up at the house, he walked inside to breakfast.

~*~

Harry walked side by side with the huge black dog that was his godfather. He had no idea where he was or where he was going. All he knew was that Sirius was very excited as to wherever _it was. _

Breakfast had been a fine affair as always, but this morning Sirius and Arabella had made breakfast together without blowing up the kitchen, which was a fair cause for celebration in itself. No one really knew what had happened between the two besides Harry, but they all strongly suspected they had settled their differences. Especially when Fiddle had caught Sirius staring at Arabella with his fork halfway to his mouth and kindly pointed it out to everyone else.

After breakfast, Harry and Sirius had walked down to the muggle village. Sirius transformed before they got there, and they made their way to the bus stop, since there was no way that Sirius could travel magically. Floo was out since there was no receiving fireplace to end up in, and the Ministry kept tight tabs on any apparating. People did stare at the huge dog on the bus and the strange boy that kept talking to it, but neither Harry nor Sirius paid any notice. 

They got out at the nearest stop to "Wherever" and then Sirius proceeded to lead Harry down a quiet and rarely used country path. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen a more beautiful landscape. The summer air blew the leaves of the great maple trees along the way. Golden fields stood to one side of them, and on the other side was a small stream of the brightest blue Harry had ever seen. Beyond that, a wood of pine trees dappled here and there with an odd apple tree. The apples were so ripe that their smell mingled with the summer breeze that caused quite an intoxicating effect. Harry found he was getting rather sleepy as he walked and he would have liked nothing better than to stop and lay down on the grassy bank of the stream and go to sleep in the sun.

They had been walking for a little more than half an hour when Harry saw a cluster of little stone cottages from afar. He looked down at Sirius only to find him looking up at him pensively. In a moment he had transformed into his usual self.

"Sirius! What are you doing?" Harry asked furiously. His godfather was not supposed to reveal himself.

"It's only for a minute, Harry," he replied. He suddenly looked very serious, and Harry wondered what had come over him. Sadness flickered through his godfather's eyes for a moment.

"What?" Harry asked, concerned. "What is it?"

Sirius swallowed and took a moment in answering. When he did, Harry was surprised to hear the solemn note in his voice. "I wanted this to be a surprise, now it just seems like a stupid idea," he mumbled to himself before he continued. "You don't remember, of course. I didn't think you would. Harry," he said turning to face his godson completely, "but this is where you were born. This is Godric's Hollow." Sirius looked expectantly at Harry.

Harry, on his part, stood speechless, the strange and almost unbelievable words sinking in. He felt his heart stop beating for just a second and all of the blood rushed up to his head. He felt a bit dizzy for a moment and swayed on his feet. Sirius grabbed his shoulders and steadied him.

"I'm sorry." He said unexpectedly.

"Huh?" Harry asked, still dazed by the information. "Why?" His godfather looked very pale.

"I should have told you where we were going before," he said simply. "It was stupid. I just didn't want you to come to this place in sadness."

Harry looked at the small village in front of him. Godric's Hollow? This was where he'd been born, where he would have grown up, had his family still been alive. In a second everything changed. He looked at the world and imagined how it might have been. He would have played here in these forests and swam in the stream. He would have eaten apples and fished and taken long walks through the fields. He would have known the other children his age and the people of the village. He would have grown up as any other boy would have grown. 

He'd always known it, but seeing for himself the tree where he could have built an excellent treehouse, and a perfect fishing spot just feet away, brought with it unexpected emotions of great longing and the feelings of regret and loss that could only belong to a boy cheated out of his childhood.

Harry swallowed and looked back at Sirius who was watching him with worry.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

Harry shook his head. "Don't be," he whispered. He began walking again towards the village, not waiting to see if Sirius followed. He did, and a second later the black dog was once again trotting alongside him. 

As he entered the village, Harry felt a vague sense of recognition and he wondered how he had known that there would be a baker shop just around the corner, or how he recalled the huge oak tree next to the schoolyard. It was ridiculous, he knew, that he remembered them from when he'd been a baby, but somehow, he knew that he had seen this place in his dreams, he had been here before when he was sleeping. It was suddenly all so vivid in his mind. The little girls playing hopscotch, the fountain in the center of the village, the bookshop, the grocer…

They passed through the entire place, just a strange boy and his dog; out for a walk in the country, it seemed. No one stopped Harry, no one spoke to him, no one's eyes lit up for even a second of recognition, seeing a younger version of a man they might once have known. And the whole time, Harry went on, with the knowledge that had things turned out differently, people would have waved at him as he was running along, the grocer might have given him apples for free in the mornings, and the baker would always have a kind word. If things had been different he would never have been famous. Instead he would have just been Harry. 

He continued past the outskirts of the village. Somehow he knew that the place he was going to was outside the boundaries of town. He was going somewhere he knew well. A place he felt his blood drawing him to. There was a strong sense of love, somewhere near, and Harry's heart pulled at him to reach it. He couldn't explain why or how. It just did.

Five minutes later. Harry stood before an empty lot surrounded by a rusted fence, overgrown with grass and weeds. The only proof there had ever once been a house were the crumbling stones scattered about. In the center was a large gap that still looked as though it were newly charred. Somehow, Harry knew that it would always stay that way. The mark of pure evil was never removed with ease.

Passing through an opening in the fence that surrounded what used to be his home, he slowly began to walk among the various stones, walking as if in a dream, as he was sure he must be. This had been his home. He had been born here, in this place that was now only a ruin. For a moment Harry paused. That seemed to be how he left everything he touched these days. In ruins. He sighed and continued walking, now bending to touch a stone, now stopping and gazing off into the distance where he seemed to lose himself to his thoughts. 

When he reached the charred black spot he stopped. It was here. Here was where he could feel his mother's love for him coming from, and Harry sighed. Even in the darkest evil, there was always a glimmer of hope. 

Harry fell to his knees and sat, staring at the center of the spot for what seemed to be eternity, longing for a past that would never be his and a life that evil had taken from him. His mind was swirling, his thoughts scattered. His heart ached and breathing became difficult. But then, after what seemed a lifetime, the strangest thing happened. By some ancient magic that lives in the heart of every being, Harry began to remember.

_Laughter. And light. A glint of bright red._

_"Harry." Someone whispered into his ear and he could hear that whoever had spoken was smiling. He clutched at the red, but to no avail, and then he was being whirled around a room, the sound of laughter stronger than before, and was overwhelmed by a feeling of complete safety. He was safe, he knew, held in his mother's arms. Safe from anything that could ever befall him. He didn't know how he knew. It was simply a magic in his heart._

_"Oh, Harry! Look what a good boy you are! You're my darling! I'll always love you." And again the sound of the purest laughter Harry had ever heard. A sound that rang like stars and bells and was the embodiment of hope itself._

_And then he was being lowered down into soft blankets that enveloped him in warmth. From somewhere above him came his mother's voice in a song that he was sure he should know. And he closed his eyes as he listened to a lullaby made of pure serenity, as it seemed._

_"Sleep and dream, little one, of Earth and Sky,_

_Drift away to peace, close your eyes,_

_Just sleep and dream, little one, never fear,_

_Cry not, child, I am here._

_Forever know that dreams live on,_

_So keep them safe within your heart,_

_Just sleep and dream, little one, fear not the dark,_

_For Light will always darkness part."_

_As he began to drift off a hand ruffled his hair. "He does have my hair, doesn't he, Lily?"_

_A chuckle and then, "Yes, he does. Poor thing!" _

_"Hey! That's not very nice, is it?" Another chuckle. "Well, at least he has your eyes." A pause. "Your beautiful eyes…"_

_Beautiful eyes…_

_Beautiful eyes…_

Harry looked up again and was startled to find himself far away from the warm blankets and laughter that still rang clear in his ears. He lifted a hand to his eyes. He was crying. He quickly wiped the tears away, but his hand rested on his scar for a moment. It tingled with his mother's magic, so close to where it had saved him. He had felt, for a moment, that nothing could ever touch him, his mother had loved him so… 

The memory had been so vivid, as though he had been there only a moment before. And his mother had sang him lullabies… The tune remained clear and haunting him in his mind. He'd dream about that tune when he slept, he knew. 

Harry reached his hand up further and touched his hair. He smiled.

"I don't mind having your hair, dad." He whispered and tears filled his eyes once again, but this time, he didn't brush them away. He let them fall free as he stood up and walked to a nearby patch of flowers that had begun to grow in between a cluster of stones off to his left.

He picked a handful of small soft-petaled purple flowers and returned to the dark circle, where he laid them out in the middle.

"Mum, Dad," he began, not knowing quite what to say, but trusting he'd find the right words. "Thank you. Thank you for watching over me everyday. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for saving me. And thank you for giving me a chance to live." Harry took a deep breath. "I'll try my best to make you happy, and I know things are going to be hard from now on…" He swallowed and paused to catch his breath. "But I know you're there somewhere, still looking out for me. I know you still love me, and I want you to know, that I could never love anyone like I do you."

Harry paused, feeling he had something else to say. He remembered. "Thank you for giving me Sirius as a godfather. He's taking very good care of me and I- and I love him very much."

He heard Sirius whine from outside the gate and looked back to see him looking at Harry with a look that could only be described as love, as well. Harry smiled at him and turned back. He looked at the flowers and sighed.

_Just sleep and dream, little one, fear not the dark,_

_For Light will always darkness part…_

"Thank you." He whispered.

As Harry finished, a strong wind came and swept the flowers away, picking them up and floating them out of sight. Harry lifted his face to the wind and watched them go, longing to fly away as well.

He stood for a few more seconds and then turned back to Sirius. His godfather was looking at him, his head cocked to the side. He walked out the gateway and turned, looking back at what could have been, not seeing the ruins but instead the lost memories that would never be.

"Come on." Harry said. "Let's go home."

~*~

The trip back to the Full Moon passed by in a haze and blur. Harry was so caught up in his thoughts that he barely realized where he was going. His visit in Godric's Hollow had left him so many things to dwell on.

After they had left the village, he and Sirius had stopped next to the stream a short distance away and had eaten lunch, which they had bought in town. They had eaten in silence. Harry found he didn't quite want to share the memory he'd had before. It was something he wished to keep to himself for always. Like a treasured possession, and even though it wasn't tangible, Harry suddenly felt it was his most precious one. He finally had a memory of his parents other than their final moments. He could think about them as they had been when they were happy. It was something he had never dreamed of having.

When they had finished lunch Harry and Sirius had walked back to the muggle bus stop and waited for their ride. And then once on the bus, Harry was so caught up in thinking that Sirius had to give Harry's had a nibble when he almost missed the stop. Harry had apologized profusely once they were off and walking back to Lupin's. But Sirius had only wagged his tail in understanding and continued leading the way.

It was a forty-five minute walk from town to Lupin's, which was far away from any place remotely populated, so they had a while to go. When they were at a safe distance, Sirius transformed back into his human self, glancing at Harry momentarily before looking back at the road ahead wordlessly. Harry noticed his godfather's curious, almost worried glance. He realized he'd been acting aloof all afternoon, and he pitied Sirius. He probably wasn't being very good company.

"Sirius?" Harry finally asked.

Sirius seemed relieved to be able to talk and answered, "Yes?" almost as soon as Harry had opened his mouth. Harry grinned.

"I'm sorry I've been so out… I've just been thinking." He looked at his godfather apologetically.

"It's fine, Harry. You've every right to your own thoughts, after all." Sirius smiled, a wolf-like smile. "My job, as your godfather, is simply to try to understand them… and it's not usually simple…" He trailed off.

Harry chuckled. "No, I suppose it isn't. I have enough trouble trying to understand them myself sometimes." He sighed. "Look," he began sternly, "don't feel bad about taking me to Godric's Hollow and not telling me first. Truth is, I understand why you did. It really isn't a place you should come to in sadness, that would just be another victory to Voldemort." Harry sighed again and looked off into the distance, not really seeing anything. "I knew it, Sirius." He said after a moment's silence. Sirius looked at him questioningly. "What?" He asked. Harry stopped walking and looked at him. "I knew Godric's Hollow." Harry's voice held wonder and disbelief. "I knew every turn, I knew every shop, tree. I knew the people, Sirius. I'd dreamed them before, though I can't remember when or where…" Sirius was listening intently. "I knew exactly where I was going. It was almost as if- as if…" Harry swallowed not knowing how to finish the sentence.

"As if you'd never left there at all?" Sirius finished for him. Harry looked at him gratefully.

"Yes." He answered. "As if I'd never left there at all. I could see how things would have been if Voldemort had never killed them, Sirius." Harry's voice was pained. "And I knew it could have been wonderful." Harry's eyes became unfocused as he recalled his memory. If his parent's had lived, his whole life could have been like that. Laughter and songs, warm memories and peace. There would have always been happiness in the house, and he would never have been alone. And if he ever awoke from a nightmare, shivering and afraid, he would have had a mother and father there to comfort him. 

Sirius did not press the subject anymore, sensing that Harry had said all he wanted to, and Harry was silently grateful. And so they continued walking on in silence until they reached the Full Moon.

Harry went up to his room right after saying hi to everyone and telling them they were back. Arabella had a hug and chocolate chip cookies ready for Harry, which he took up to his room with him, very much obliged. 

He climbed the stairs alone to his temporary bedroom, the plate of cookies in one hand and a tall glass of milk in the other. Arabella was always feeding him, non-stop, saying he was much too thin and scrawny. He thought it was very funny, but so did everyone else, as they watched her pile food on Harry's plate at every meal as though he was starving. Of course, he always finished everything, and Harry had come to the conclusion that Arabella was right. Boys his age needed to eat. Upon his arrival at Lupin's, Harry had discovered a constant hunger that never really seemed to let up. At the Dursley's he had never been allowed to eat what he wanted and he never looked forward to meals. Here, he found himself ravenous. It was doing him only good, though. He had tried on his robes the other day to find them much too short for him. He couldn't recall them being small at Hogwarts, so this sudden growth spurt must have come upon him during the past few weeks. He imagined he was as tall as Ron had been last time he'd seen him. But he also knew that if he had grown, Ron definitely had during the summer. He was sure next time he saw him, Ron would be very near six feet tall.

He chuckled to himself, imagining how hard it would be for Ron to cower before Mrs., Weasley next time he got in trouble. And knowing Ron, it probably happened several times a week. 

Harry reached his room and pushed the door open with his elbow, setting the cookies and milk on a great wooden desk across from his bed. He left them untouched as he went over to his trunk and dug through his things before pulling out the gifts he had received from his parents for his birthday.

He went and sat down on his bed, cross-legged, setting the gifts before him. He just looked at them for a moment, before picking up his father's pocket-watch, running his fingers over the lion's mane and eyes, the red and gold glinting like fire. And when he lifted the lid, he once again saw the names of three hundred years of ancestors glinting back at him, and his name at the end of the list. He felt honored to be placed there along with his father's name, and he wasn't quite sure he deserved it. His father, who had given his life to protect him and his mother. That was true heroism and bravery. Each time he'd faced Voldemort, he'd had no one to protect but himself.

But wait. That wasn't exactly true. In his second year, he had saved Ginny, Ron's little sister from Tom Riddle. Voldemort as he had been when he was young. 

Realization hit him. He had been willing to risk his life to save someone. He sat dazed as he thought of it. He had never thought his actions so great as everyone else made them out to be. In his eyes, they weren't great at all. They were just things he'd done to survive. After all, it wasn't his fault a crazed maniac was after him, and he had to protect himself. But then as he remembered all the events connected to the Chamber of Secrets, he recalled his fear and the sick feeling in his stomach when he understood that Ginny might be dead, and his determination to find her and bring her back, alive. If he hadn't gone in after her, no one would have thought any less of him. So why had he? Why had he walked straight into danger to save someone he hadn't even been sure was still there? Someone he had barely known?

He stood from the bed abruptly, his parent's gifts forgotten, as he pondered the possible answers to these questions. Unthinkingly he walked over to the desk and picked up a cookie, munching as he sat down there, deep in thought. 

Why had he been so afraid to lose Ginny Weasley?

He didn't know, but he had a funny feeling in his stomach, one that nagged to be noticed. He ignored it and continued munching.

He'd gone down to the Chamber, fought a Basilisk and young Voldemort, been poisoned, saved from death at the last moment, and almost had his memory obliterated. All to save a little redheaded girl he'd only known as one of the Weasleys. Why?

He decided he'd been afraid for the Weasleys and hadn't wanted them to lose part of their family. But truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure he believed that himself. 

Harry grabbed for another cookie, but found he'd already eaten them all. His stomach grumbled, demanding more food. 

Harry looked at his watch. It was nearly time for dinner. He and Sirius had been out for most of the day, even though it hadn't seemed long at all.

His stomach grumbled again. Harry sighed and decided he'd go down and help whoever was making dinner.

Down in the kitchen, he found Sirius stirring a pot on the stove that smelled like heaven to Harry. He looked inside the oven to find a fresh loaf of bread baking, and found a pudding on the counter being kept cool by a Frigiding charm. 

Harry walked up to the stove and looked down at what Sirius was stirring. It was a simple stew, but one that Harry was sure would fill him up for at least a few hours.

Sirius laughed at the look of anticipation on Harry's face.

"Hungry, are you?" He asked, amused.

"Starving," Harry replied simply.

"Well, we'll be eating in five minutes. Go set out the napkins," came Arabella's stern voice from behind them. 

Harry went to follow her orders, but couldn't help smiling as he caught a glimpse of Arabella giving Sirius a quick kiss on the cheek right before he was out the door.

Ten minutes later everyone but Fiddle, who was out doing some important research on ancient defense techniques, was seated about the table. Harry was already digging in, deciding he could pile his plate without Arabella having to help him.

There was a flap of wings as Harry cut himself a slice of the freshly baked bread and he looked up momentarily as a barn owl flew to Fletcher and set the "Evening Prophet" before him. Harry went back to buttering his bread, which he deigned much more interesting. Fletcher picked up the paper as he lifted his glass to his lips. But a second later he spit his pumpkin juice out in shock, staring at the paper as if it were a Death Eater. Everyone fell silent.

"Good Gryffindor," was all Fletcher was able to say, his eyes widened in horror.

Harry glanced over at Sirius who, he could see, had stiffened noticeably. His voice was without emotion as he said. "Fletcher, give me the paper."

Fletcher's hands shook as he did so, and Sirius took the paper from him with foreboding. Harry watched him as he glanced at the title and then saw all of the blood leave his face, leaving him pallid and white. The haunted look that Harry knew so well had entered his godfather's eyes, and in that moment Harry was afraid, very afraid. 

Sirius looked up suddenly from the paper, straight at Harry.

"Harry…" He croaked, his voice raspy. Harry's heart beat picked up pace.

"What is it?" He asked, in a voice so soft he barely heard himself. 

Sirius's hands shook just as Fletcher's had as he handed Harry the evening paper. Harry didn't want to look at it, but he knew he had to.

But he hadn't imagined anything as bad as what he read there.

**_Death Eater Attack in Diagon Alley: Seven Killed, Nineteen Injured:_**

_This morning, shopping began as any other morning in Diagon Alley._

_ Shops opened, and people flooded in, to shop for the coming school term. _

_It was precisely 12:37 when the first screams were heard. Twenty Death _

_Eater's had apparated into the main section of Diagon Alley and sent _

_curses flying to any that stood before them, among those curses, the Killing _

_Curse. It was massacre such as has not been seen since the days when He-_

_Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in power, leaving seven killed and many _

_more injured._

_"One moment I was buying rat spleen and the next, people were screaming _

_and running away as quickly as they could. I went outside and was almost _

_hit with the Cruciatus Curse." Exclaimed a shaking witch before breaking _

_down sobbing and then led away by mediwizards who appeared at the scene_

_ of the crime moments after the Death Eaters had disapparated._

_It is still unknown as to whether the attack was planned by someone other than _

_the Death Eaters themselves, or whether there is a possibility of more attacks _

_following the tragic one that took place this afternoon._

As Harry finished reading, he found he couldn't breathe and he was clutching the paper, as though it were a life preserver, anchoring him to where he sat. He looked up at Sirius with fear in his eyes, sure that he was as pale as Sirius was.

"No." was all Harry could whisper. His fear was overpowering. He was shaking. 

The Weasleys. They'd been in Diagon Alley today.

"We don't know that anything happened to them, Harry." Sirius replied, trying to sound sure of himself but belying his words when his voice cracked. His eyes were wide with the fear Harry felt as well.

It seemed hours passed in a matter of seconds. Harry didn't know what to do. Horrible scenarios rushed through his mind, unbidden. Scenarios of the Weasleys in the line of fire, of Mrs. Weasley screaming, of Ron lying unconscious on the ground.

Harry stood up quickly, but grabbed at the table when the floor swayed below his feet. His vision blurred and for a moment, Harry thought he was going to black out. But a moment later he regained control of himself and stood up straight. He had to do something. Anything. But what?

He didn't have to do anything because a second later a gray owl flew into the room carrying a letter, and Harry immediately recognized it as Hermes, Percy's owl.

Hermes landed in front of Harry and stuck out a leg, where Harry saw a letter attached. He untied it as quickly as he could with trembling fingers, afraid of what he might discover. 

When the letter was freed, Harry slowly unfolded it, not wanting to read but knowing he had to.

But he felt his heart stop beating and the world collapse around him as he read the first three words.

_Harry:_

_ Its Ginny. __ ** **_

AN: Yes I know. I'm evil. All complaints should be directed to my lawyer: Sirius Black from "After the End" or to a review box. In short, don't just sit there with your mouths hanging open! Yell at me! Oh, btw, the song is my own creation. SOMEBODY (I won't name names… *cough* Ami! *cough*) thought I'd taken it from somewhere else. 


	6. Family

AN: I am soooooo sorry this took so long. The thing is that I don't post here until my chapter has been posted on gryffindortower.net and there I have to wait until my beta uploads it… she gets kind of busy sometimes… 

Again, I'm sorry.

****

**Chapter 5:**

****

Harry stood, shaking in the chill night, at the door of the Burrow, his trunk in hand. The past few hours had been a nightmare. The fear, the worry and the helplessness were driving him mad. 

When Harry had read those first three words, his world had come crashing down around him. The seas had flooded the earth and the heavens had toppled down. His legs had turned to jelly, and for a moment he'd been sure history was repeating itself. Then he shook himself and forced his eyes to continue reading what his heart didn't want to see. But there was no comfort for him there.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to stop shivering as he recalled the rest of the letter. It had said that Ginny had been shopping for quills by herself when the attack had taken place. She had apparently been hit repeatedly by the Cruciatus.

Harry's courage had almost failed him when he'd read those words. He remembered only too well the Cruciatus curse. The unbearable pain, like fire coursing through his veins, and his bones breaking simultaneously.

Doggedly he had continued, praying that there would be some words of comfort before the end. But there hadn't been. Ginny had been cursed badly and had been taken to St. Mungo's. She was on the critical list in intensive care.

That was all. No glimmer of hope, no comforting words. Just Mrs. Weasley's request that Harry come to the Burrow, 

Harry still wondered about that. He couldn't think of any reason that Mrs. Weasley would ask him to come stay. Wouldn't he just be a bother? But he had packed his things right away and had wished everyone goodbye, with a request that they send Fiddle his regards as well.

Saying goodbye to Lupin and Sirius had been the hardest. He had been so happy at the Full Moon, spending his summer with people he loved, his godfather, care and worry free. These had been people that his parents had known and loved, the closest he would ever get to them. 

And Sirius was the closest thing he had to a father. He looked to Sirius as family. Sirius was family. He always would be.

Harry had waved goodbye, and as he stuck out his wand hand to call the Knight Bus, he felt for the first time that he was leaving home. But home was no longer a place to Harry. It was wherever the people he loved and who loved him back were.

Harry had taken the Knight Bus to Ottery St. Catchpole, the village near the Burrow, and had laboriously dragged his trunk for fifteen minutes until he got to the Weasley's. That was where he was now. Afraid to knock on the door and make the whole nightmare become reality. 

Harry shivered again. It was around two a.m., but Harry knew someone was in the house waiting for him. Mrs. Weasley had said to come right away.

Gathering his courage, Harry raised his hand and knocked three times on the door. He waited with baited breath for the sound of footsteps from inside the house. Seconds seemed to last hours before he heard them, faint and slow.

A moment later, the door was opened, and framed in the doorway stood none other than Charlie Weasley, one of Ron's older brother's who normally worked with dragons in Romania. Harry wasn't surprised to see him.

"Hey Harry," he said, his voice shaky. Harry took a good look at him and saw that he was very drawn and pale, which made his freckles stand out on his face, and he had bags under his eyes.

"Charlie," Harry replied hoarsely, nodding his head in greeting. But then he got straight to the point and asked the question he badly needed an answer to. "Charlie, how is she?" 

He wondered for a moment at the desperation he could hear in his own voice.

Charlie lifted a hand and rubbed his eyes and then ran it through his hair.

"Come inside Harry. It's cold out here," was all he would answer.

Harry followed him into the kitchen, leaving his trunk in the hall. The Burrow had never seemed so cold and empty, he realized with a jolt. It felt unnatural.

Harry sat down at the scrubbed wooden kitchen table as Charlie set some water to boil with a wave of his wand. Harry watched him, and he could feel the tension in the very air he breathed. He also knew that Charlie was avoiding answering his question. He asked again, more desperately than before. "How is she?"

Charlie sighed and stopped taking the coffee out of the cabinet over the sink. He put the jar down and gripped the sides of the counter, and his whole figure seemed to give way to grief and helplessness. 

"She's not doing too well, Harry," came Charlie's voice. He turned around, and when Harry looked in his eyes, he saw all of Charlie's pain showing through, and it shocked him, because there was an ocean of it. 

Harry's heart sank inside him. "What do the doctors say?" He was afraid of the answer.

Charlie looked away out the window and sighed heavily before replying.

"They don't know if she's going to make it, Harry." Charlie shook his head, his voice barely more than a whisper. "They just don't know." He slumped down onto the floor, his 

shoulders shaking as he cried silently. 

Harry sat in shock, not knowing what he should do. He would never have imagined Charlie being able to cry, but Harry also knew that he had always been very close to Ginny. Harry felt a familiar knot in his throat as well and swallowed.

He got up from the table and went over to where Charlie sat hunched on the floor. 

"Come on," Harry told him, as soothingly as he could, reaching down to pull him up, trying to keep his voice steady. Charlie seemed to have lost all willpower and permitted Harry to lead him to the table and sit him down. He sat slumped in his chair, staring at nothing, as Harry went about finishing the task Charlie had begun. He got out two mugs and sugar and made a cup of strong coffee for each of them. He put one in front of Charlie. He didn't touch it or seem to realize it was even there. Harry sat down across from him, warming his chilled hands on the warm mug.

The silence was deafening, and Harry felt the need to comfort Charlie in any way he could.

"I remember in my second year," he began, "the Chamber of Secrets was opened." Charlie looked at Harry, but Harry looked away. He couldn't look into his eyes. They were so full of pain, so unlike him. Harry continued his story.

"Ron and I, we had overheard the teachers talking. They said someone had been taken. Ginny." Here he forced himself to look in Charlie's direction. Charlie nodded. He knew the story.

"All I could think about was getting her out. I didn't even know if she was still…" Harry trailed off as he saw Charlie wince. He took a deep breath. "So Ron and I found the entrance and went down there, but we got separated and I had to go on alone. And the whole time, all I could think about was that I would be too late. And then, when I found her," Harry closed his eyes, the memory vivid in his mind. Ginny's limp figure, her ice cold skin, her freckles standing out shockingly against her pale face. He opened his eyes, determination blazing in them like green fire. "She was barely alive, but she was still there. Charlie," his voice was pleading, "Charlie, she was still there."

Harry looked hard at him, waiting for him to acknowledge and confirm what Harry needed to believe. And then slowly, Charlie nodded, accepting what Harry was trying to tell him. Harry sighed in relief and took a sip from his mug.

A few seconds passed in silence, but not as heavy a silence as before.

"You know," Charlie said suddenly, "I remember when she was six, I was home for the summer from Hogwarts, and Ginny was climbing a tree near the creek and fell out. She broke her leg. Mum was so worried…" Charlie chuckled. "But she really needn't have been. Ginny was back from St. Mungo's an hour later. They'd healed the break, but she still needed to stay off it for a few days."

Harry nodded. He knew the whole process very well…

"Well, the little imp somehow managed to turn it all in her favor. You wouldn't have believed it if you saw it. She had Fred and George running around like mad doing everything she wanted, and even things she didn't really want." Harry laughed. He could imagine it very well. Charlie continued. "She kept moaning and saying how much it hurt, and we all believed her, of course." Charlie's eyes lit up at the memory. "That is, we believed her until Bill walked in on her dancing around her room like a little ballerina when no one else was there."

Harry laughed and so did Charlie. It felt good to laugh, and although Harry was still worried, hearing stories about Ginny helped him feel a little better. He didn't know her that well, but at the same time, felt he knew her completely. It was strange, he'd never really sat down and talked to her or been through all the things he'd been through with Ron and Hermione with her, but he felt close to her in a different sort of way… He couldn't explain it, even to himself. Perhaps it was the fact that Ginny had also been up against Voldemort and had survived. He knew what it was like to live through an encounter with him. It left you with a whole other side that no one else could know about or understand. Sure, Ron and Hermione had gone through a lot of things with him, but they'd never actually faced Voldemort. Only he and Ginny had.

Suddenly he understood why Mrs. Weasley had asked him to come to the Burrow. Ginny was going to need a lot of help getting through this if… Harry shook himself mentally. No, _when she recovered. However, Harry knew that the hardest aspect of recovery wouldn't be the physical part. This had been her second time up against this kind of thing, and though he wasn't positive, he strongly suspected that Ginny wasn't completely over the first time. _

He knew he wasn't.

"Charlie?"

Charlie had just put his mug down and was making a face. "Harry, mate, did anyone ever tell you, you make awful coffee?"

"Thank you so much." Harry replied sarcastically, though he privately agreed. He hadn't touched his coffee after the first sip. Charlie carefully pushed his mug away from him, as though it might explode at any given moment.

Harry pretended not to notice. "Charlie," He said again, "I want to go to St. Mungo's."

The tension that had just begun to clear returned full force. Charlie sighed.

"Yeah. I know," he nodded. There was a pause. "Well, that's why mum asked me to wait for you. She knew you'd want to see her. Come on." He gave Harry a feeble smile. "We'll go by Floo."

Harry nodded, too worried about Ginny to even care that they were going by fireplace. He followed Charlie into the living room where Charlie took a small pot from the mantle-piece and handed it over to Harry. He took a pinch of the glittering powder.

Charlie took out his wand, pointed it at the empty grate and muttered "_Incendio!" and a second later there was a blazing fire there._

The empty living room was filled with light, casting moving shadows over the room in tune with the roaring flames. Harry stood transfixed for a moment before them, his hand half extended to throw the powder into the flames, but he was suddenly too nervous to go through with it. He didn't know if he really wanted to see Ginny in St. Mungo's. His guilt was kicking in again, and he knew that had he defeated Voldemort, then the attack would never have happened. Ginny wouldn't have been hurt. No one would have been hurt.

Harry shook his head. He had already decided that those thoughts would lead him to nowhere but darkness. He needed to focus on hope, no matter how little of it there seemed to be.

Harry determinedly threw the Floo powder into the flames, which turned bright green and orange. He glanced for a moment at Charlie, a silent reminder of what they had spoken of before, and encouragement that everything was going to be alright, and then Harry stepped into the swirling fire.

"St. Mungo's!" He shouted, and was immediately spinning as quickly as he could go. The spinning made him queasy, but it was nothing near as bad as what his nerves were causing him. He tucked in his elbows and shut his eyes, blocking out the whirling and trying to concentrate on hope.

A moment later, he fell through an open grate into a plain room with white walls and small chairs lined against them. The room smelled like the hospital wing at Hogwarts, a smell that Harry would always associate with sickness and death. He tried not to think about it and he stood aside, waiting for Charlie to come through after him. 

He did, a second later, looking as green and nauseated as Harry felt. But he quickly recovered and brushed himself clean of soot and dust. When he was done he lifted his eyes to Harry's and nodded his head towards the door of the small sterile room. Harry followed him out into a long corridor with the same clean white walls. Every few meters was a door leading to one of the hospital rooms, some were open, and when Harry looked in, he could see people sitting around beds occupied by sleeping people, conversing in lowered voices and looking very grim. 

At the end of the hallway was a nurses' station, and beyond that was a large staircase leading upwards to the second and third floors. Charlie led him there and Harry looked up to see a sign before it saying "Children's Ward: Second Floor, Psychiatric Ward: Third Floor".

When they reached the second floor, Charlie stopped at the nurse's desk. A nurse in a white robe noticed Charlie standing there and came over to speak to him.

"Hello dear," she said and smiled at him. "Back to see her?"

"Yes," Charlie answered. "Has there been any change?" 

The nurse sighed and shook her head sympathetically. "I'm afraid not, love. But only time can tell." She offered the only words of comfort she could. 

Charlie nodded grimly. "Thanks," he said and walked off down the hall. Harry followed him until he spotted several redheaded people up ahead that could only be the Weasleys.

As he drew near, there suddenly came a cry from one of the figures, and a moment later, Molly Weasley had Harry gripped in a tight hug. 

"Oh, Harry! Harry! I'm so happy you're here!" Mrs. Weasley was crying as she looked up at Harry, and he felt his heart go out to her. She looked a mess, much like he remembered her at the end of his second year. Her face was tear-streaked and her eyes were puffy and red from crying. Her hair was a jamble of red tangles, now tinged with gray, gray he was sure hadn't been there the year before.

Harry looked down at her, as he was now taller than she was, and Mrs. Weasley wiped her eyes and attempted a wavery smile. She sniffed.

"I wanted you to be here, she said after a pause. "I remember how you helped Ginny before. I don't know," here she shrugged her shoulders, a gesture of complete helplessness, and laughed a dry mirthless laugh, "I guess I thought you might be able to save her again." She looked pleadingly at Harry, as though she was really requesting it of him. "It's silly, I know, but a mother, well a mother never gives up, not until the last breath."

Harry was surprised that Mrs. Weasley thought he'd be capable of doing anything when the doctors hadn't been able to, but he also knew exactly what she meant about mothers. His mother hadn't given up either. He nodded and Mrs. Weasley looked at him gratefully.

It was then that Harry noticed that the whole family had been watching this exchange, with somber expressions, including-

"Ron," Harry said softly. His best friend was standing a bit away from the rest of his family, and he looked haunted and crumpled. He looked at Harry with eyes that held nearly nothing. Vacant, as though he still hadn't gotten over the shock. It shocked Harry just to look at him. He'd never seen him look like that, and he suddenly realized how Ron's entire world must be nearly falling apart. He didn't have any brothers or sisters, but he considered Ron closer than any brother he could ever have had. Maybe that was why it hurt him so much to see him like that. All he knew was that in a moment he had crossed to where Ron was standing and had pulled him into a tight hug. Ron was limp against him for a moment, but then seemed to come apart. He shook as Charlie had done earlier, letting everything go. Harry's eyes stung with unshed tears as well.

"Damn, Harry," Ron spoke, his voice choked and thick with tears. "They say she might not make it." There was such anguish in Ron's words that Harry soon felt himself crying as well.

They stood there for a moment, brothers by all standards save blood. But blood wasn't important. To any of them.

~*~

The door creaked slowly open. Harry was terrified of what he was going to find behind it. But a moment later he had entered the room with Ron at his side. They were all taking turns sitting with Ginny so that they wouldn't disturb her. 

It was a large room with two beds, but one was left unfilled. In the other one was the small red headed figure Harry had come to know throughout the years. The curtain usually used to block patients from view was pushed off to the side and a small table stood next to the bed with a vase of daisies on it and next to it a long stick of wood, which must be Ginny's wand. The room looked so simple and bleak in contrast to the fiery red that was spread across the pillow beneath Ginny's head. Harry wondered how any place could be so colorless.

Slowly, Harry inched closer, and when he at last came face to face with Ginny, he gasped at the sight of her. 

She was as pale as a ghost, and her lips were tinged with purple. Upon closer inspection he could see a bad bruise on her left temple and a cut on her eyebrow. Her breathing was very shallow and labored.

Ron had taken a spot on the other side of Ginny's bed next to the open window through which the chill night air was blowing. He brought his chair as close as he could to Ginny before sitting down and taking her hand in his own.

"Hey Gin," he said in a whisper. "I'm back. And guess who I brought with me?"

Ginny made no reply, but Ron continued as though she had. "It's Harry, Ginny. Harry's here to see you. He came right away when he heard." Ron looked up at Harry from his seat, motioning him to sit down as well and say something.

Harry brought a chair from across the room and pulled it up close to Ginny. He sat in silence for a moment. In the end, "Hey," was all he could think of to say.

"There. You see?" Ron said in a would-be joking sort of voice. "That's Harry. As articulate as ever."

Harry sighed. Well? What did Ron want him to say? He couldn't think of anything himself. The only thoughts that kept passing through his head were memories. Bad memories. He shook his head, searching for anything he could talk about. He settled on his visit with Sirius that summer. 

"You know," he began, and Ron looked at him gratefully, "I spent the summer with Snuffles. We had a lot of fun." Ron nodded his approval. Harry continued, "You wouldn't believe the things that went on there. It wasn't just me and Sirius. It was Professor Lupin, and this crazy lady who'd always lived a few blocks away, and I'd always thought was old and mad. She turned out to be an Auror undercover. And Mundungus Fletcher. He likes your dad a lot. Then there were Fiddle who plays this charmed violin and Su-Ling. She gave me an amulet. And Cyril… Would you believe it? He was in Slytherin and actually moved to Gryffindor…"

Harry trailed off, not knowing what else to say. He could talk about his various exploits of the summer, or the Breakfast War, or anything. But it seemed too unreal to sit here talking to a Ginny who couldn't laugh or joke or reply at all. Ginny was so lifeless, it seemed ridiculous to be telling her these things.

Harry looked up at Ron. "I can't do it," he said, pained. "I can't." He swallowed the new lump that had developed in his throat. 

Ron sighed. "Look, I know it's hard. But you know, the doctors said that she can probably hear everything we tell her. It doesn't mean she understands it, but it's still good for her to hear friendly voices." Ron paused and looked down at his sister's face again. "Come on Harry. It's for Ginny." Ron wiped a shaking hand across his eyes.

For Ginny. It was all for Ginny. He still remembered the Chamber of Secrets. Hadn't that been much harder than just sitting and talking with her? If he'd almost died saving her last time then he could certainly do a simple thing like talk. He took a deep breath and began.

Half an hour later, Harry had told almost everything he'd been through that summer at Lupin's. He'd begun from the very beginning at the Dursley's and told everything up to the previous day. There he'd stopped. He didn't want anyone to know about Godric's Hollow just yet. For now, that was still completely his.

If Ginny had benefited from his story at all, then she hadn't been the only one. His spirits had been lifted and Ron had even chuckled at a couple parts of the tale. They both looked better than they had when they'd come in.

Well, Harry did have quite a comical summer.

They both sat in silence now. Ron was still holding Ginny's hand protectively. Harry looked down at Ginny's other hand. It seemed so frail, as though if he touched it, it would come apart. Harry gently lifted his own and moved to pick hers up, curious to see if it was as fragile as it looked. But when his skin came in contact with hers, he felt a small shock go through his body, one that raised goose-bumps all over his arms. 

At the same time, Ginny made a small muffling sound, and Harry and Ron both looked at her with a gasp and hope in their eyes. But a moment later Ginny was again silent. It had probably only been something in her dreams, if she was dreaming at all.

Harry sighed in disappointment, Ginny's hand now clasped in his own. Her fingers were icy cold, but Harry couldn't help noticing how her hand seemed to fit so well in his own. 

He gave it a small squeeze and then looked at Ron.

"Hey," he said to get his attention. "Your Mum wanted to come in for a bit, remember?"

Ron sighed. "Yeah, I know. I just, don't want to leave her, Harry." Ron shook his head. 

"Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?"

Harry looked hard at his best friend, thinking. Did he? Could he actually tell Ron that he knew how he felt? He wondered for a moment. He felt something, deep in his stomach, a dull ache that was only dull because Harry wouldn't let himself give in to it. He'd felt loss and fear before, he knew the terror of being completely helpless to a situation. He knew the grief of having someone you loved taken from you…

He raised his eyes to Ron's questioning gaze and answered with complete sincerity, "Yes. I do."

~*~

Harry knew it was a dream, but that didn't stop him from being afraid. The blackness around him engulfed everything; sound, light, joy... It was pure nothingness. He felt it pressing in on him, unrelentingly. He turned around, feeling a presence behind him, but there was nothing there, only more blackness. But then he once again felt a presence off to his side, and at the same time directly in front of him. Now that he stopped to think about it, he felt a presence all around him. That was the blackness he felt. And whatever was there was evil.

Someone, or something laughed, a laugh that sent a chill up Harry's spine and echoed all around him. He spun wildly, trying to figure out which direction it was coming from. It was no use. Harry stopped and stood still and silent. He closed his eyes and just listened for a minute with all his might, trying to find any hint as to the direction of the sound. 

It was there, off to his right. The laughter was coming from there. And sure enough, when he looked, Harry could see far off, a small glimmer, like a doorway leading to a dimly lit chamber. He began to walk in that direction, as quickly as he could, but he never seemed to get any closer. Then, after what seemed an eternity, he came to it at last. It was a small hole, just big enough for him to slide through, and true enough, there was a chamber just beyond it. Harry scrambled through quickly, only to wish he had never tried to reach it in the first place. 

He stood in a room he knew well, but one he'd like to forget. Harry gasped in surprise and fear. The Chamber of Secrets. That was the chamber he'd entered. He recalled the towering pillars and the great statue of Salazar Slytherin himself, the statue at the base of which, he had found Ginny little more than two years ago. He shuddered and turned to go back out the portal through which he had come, only to find that it had disappeared. He had no way to escape. None whatsoever. 

It was then that he heard the sound of footsteps directly in front of him, but when he looked, there was no one there. Perhaps the chamber was haunted? By the ghost of Tom Riddle…

No. Tom Riddle was history. He had defeated Voldemort's past self once and for all. 

The footsteps were drawing near, and they came so close to Harry, that had someone been there, he was sure they'd have been but inches apart. Harry took a deep breath and spoke to the silence.

"Who's there?" He looked at the air in front of him. "Show yourself!"

Whatever was in front of him chuckled softly. Again he heard footsteps, as the entity moved around him to his side.

The next moment Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. "Hello, Harry Potter." The being whispered in his ear. Harry backed away from it.

"What are you?" he asked, panicked.

There was a pause, and then, "A friend. Yes. That is the word," It spoke as though simply the idea was strange to It. "A friend to those who I find worthy. To those of Power."

Harry didn't like this. Whoever had spoken sounded evil. And what he'd said about friends sounded much too familiar. Like Wormtail, he realized with a start.

"Whatever you are," Harry began. "You're not my friend."

Again a soft laugh. "Hmmm…" It mused. "Perhaps you are correct. But still, you are One of Power, am I not mistaken?" 

Harry was puzzled. "I don't know what you're talking about," he answered.

The Voice ignored Harry's statement. "But if I am not your ally, then I am your enemy. Trust me when I say to you, Harry Potter, you do not wish me as an enemy." The words were venomous, as though made of poison, and they struck Harry with a force he didn't believe possible.

Gasping he called out again. "Who are you?"

And again the Voice ignored him and went on. "I have been sought out by another of Power, perhaps greater than your own although perhaps not. He is quite worthy of my, ah, 'friendship'." He spoke the word and sarcasm dripped from every syllable. A chuckle, and then It continued. "I had not expected any to seek me out, but he came and he was powerful, oh yes. The Darkness was great in him."

Harry had no idea what this thing was talking about. What did he mean by 'One of Power'? Who was this other person, and why would he want to seek him out? Whoever he was?

"But, Harry Potter, I felt you when he came to me, begging my allegiance. I gave not to him what another, stronger maybe, could possess. And the Darkness is great in you as well."

Harry stood shocked, the words sinking in. Darkness? In him? He didn't understand, and the whole conversation was making him dizzy. He would have laughed, except he suddenly found that the situation wasn't funny at all, because he knew, somehow, that the disembodied voice was speaking the truth. Things were so clear to him, perhaps because of the state he found himself in, so many things suddenly clicked into place. He had long fought it, never letting it surface. Dull, deep inside him, he had always felt it growing, but had never allowed himself to acknowledge it.

His first year, when the Sorting Hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin. The hat had known, it had seen. His repeated victories against Voldemort. He remembered again the whispers of Hogwart's Students as he had passed down the corridors in his second year. Why had the Dark Lord wished him dead to begin with? Was it because he was afraid Harry would grow and take the title for himself? He remembered the thrill he felt each time he stood facing Malfoy, or one of his cronies, wand poised and ready, hatred surging through his every vein, wanting nothing more than to cause pain and hurt. He could speak Parsletongue. His blood had been used to raise Voldemort to power. And then there was the side of him that no one knew. The side that was without hope, left with nothing but fears to feed on, and hate and rage.

Yes, he would have laughed, had he not realized the truth of the Voice's words.

Harry gasped for breath, suddenly not wanting to know who spoke to him, or where he was. All he wanted to do was get away. He had to get away.

"Get away from me!" he suddenly screamed. "Leave me alone! I don't want anything to do with you, whoever you are. You're lying!" He knew that he was the one who was lying, but he didn't care. He just wanted it to stop.

The laughter returned. And then from far away- "Very well, Harry Potter. Very well. But know this. You could have had me as an ally. Remember that when you die..." Harry was then drowned in laughter. It pounded in his ears; it was in the air he breathed. Everything around him was evil laughter, and just when he thought he would be torn apart- blackness.

~*~

Harry slowly opened his eyes to find himself back in the white hallway in the Children's Ward of St. Mungo's. His back was cramped being as he'd fallen asleep in one of the hard chairs just outside Ginny's room. He looked over on his right to find Ron fast asleep in the chair next to him, his legs stretched out before him, assuring that anyone who passed unsuspectingly would most definitely trip and fall. 

Harry's heart was beating very fast. He hadn't forgotten what he'd just dreamed. No, the dream was still fresh in his mind as though it had really happened. It wasn't slipping away, like most of his dreams usually did. And everything had seemed so real, the sound of the footsteps resonating from the walls and ceiling. The irrepressible darkness that had engulfed him. But most of all he remembered the words spoken.

_"The Darkness is great in you as well."_

That was what Harry remembered most clearly, and he was suddenly surrounded with the shame he had felt then. He knew the truth, and it was more than he could bear. He had always known it, but had never wanted to notice what he felt hidden in the most secret parts of his soul. His dream had forced him to see the truth, and though he still didn't know what his dream had meant, he knew with complete clarity that he, Harry Potter, had a Dark side that no one would have ever believed him capable of. 

Harry clenched his fists and shut his eyes tightly. He had been able to ignore it up to then, but now that he had fully realized it, he couldn't forget. But he wished he could.

The Sorting Hat should have put him into Slytherin, then. He belonged there, how could he not? No matter what he thought or what anyone told him, they couldn't change the way things were.

Harry made a frustrated strangled noise. Why was this happening to him?

Ron mumbled something next to him and sat up, rubbing his eyes. 

"What time's it?" he asked groggily. Harry sat up straight and looked at Ron guiltily. For some reason he felt that now that he had realized- this- his… what he had realized, that it would be clear to everyone else as well, and they'd suddenly see what a joke "The Boy Who Lived" was. But Ron simply looked at Harry expectantly, waiting for him to tell him the time.

Harry nervously looked down at his watch. "8:20." he told Ron. They'd slept for five hours, and now that Harry looked, he could see sunlight flooding the far end of the corridor where there was a small window. 

"What?!" Ron exclaimed, and stood up quickly, but then sat right back down rubbing his back. "Ow!" 

Harry laughed. "Yeah, mine too, Ron. These chairs are horrible."

Ron made a face. "They should at least have the sense to put a good cushioning charm on them!"

Harry shrugged. He felt relieved that Ron didn't notice anything, even though he knew that it was silly he thought he would.

Harry heard footsteps behind him and turned around to see Fred and George coming towards them, each carrying two steaming cups in their hands. Fred and George had also looked panic stricken the day before. Their usually cheery demeanor had disappeared and now as they came closer, Harry figured that neither of them had got any sleep as they looked much the same as they had last night, if not worse. They were missing the usual identical grins that they were known for and the mischievous glint in their eyes was gone. They stopped in front of Harry and Ron. 

"Hello," said George. Harry knew it was George from five years of being around the twins. It was very hard to tell them apart, but Fred had broader shoulders and George walked differently. He had more of a bounce in his step. 

Fred attempted a smile, but didn't succeed as well as he would have liked. He shrugged his shoulders and handed Harry one of the cups. "Coffee," he explained. "We figured you'd need it." Harry mumbled his thanks as he warmed his hands on the cup. He looked up at George, who was sipping thoughtfully. 

"Has there been any change?" 

George shook his head in reply. "No," he said. "But I think the doctors are pleased that she's made it this far." He cleared his throat and tried to sound pleased as well but he couldn't disguise the plain fear that Harry heard in his voice.

They all drank in silence, finding that words were no comfort.

~*~

"You know Ginny, I was thinking about a few things the other day," Harry said that afternoon to an unconscious Ginny. Ron had gone out for a breath of fresh air with Hermione, who had arrived a few hours earlier, so Harry was alone with her for a while. He had been telling her various stories that he made up on the spot and that had no point at all. But he had run out of ideas and felt that he couldn't just sit and be silent. He was tired of being silent because silence left too much space for thought, and he had too many things that he didn't want to think about just then. 

"I never really had a real family, or a real home for that matter. Except Hogwarts, but that's not the same. I never had anyone until I met your family." Harry moved his fingers up and down Ginny's arm, not even realizing he was doing it. "You all made me feel that I was, I don't know, better than I was. People had never cared about me the way your Mum did, or Ron." Harry paused, wondering if he should continue. He steeled himself and did. "Or you," he sighed. 

"I've always wondered why you do. I mean, I'm not so great as everyone says I am, trust me." Harry remembered his dream and cursed himself mentally for somehow managing to talk himself into a subject that he was trying to avoid thinking about. "Sometimes I wish no one cared. It would be better for them if they didn't. All I ever cause anyone is trouble." 

Harry looked at Ginny's face, hoping to see some sign that she was coming to. She was still as pale as ever, but at least her lips had lost the blue tinge that had been there. "I don't deserve anyone's love. You'd know that if you really knew me." Harry hung his head, letting go of Ginny's arm and crossing his own in front of him. He breathed deeply for a few moments, trying to steady his racing heart. He was telling Ginny things he'd never said to anyone before, and so doing, making them known to himself as well. Half of his words were a surprise to him. 

Harry continued speaking. "There are some things about me that no one would ever believe. Ever. And I'm so afraid that someday, everyone is going to find out."

"Sometimes I wonder if you might understand a bit of what I'm talking about. It's that feeling that you get in the pit of your stomach when you're sure you're about to die, and then when you realize you've lived through it, you wonder if you should have and how scared it makes you. I've gone through that so many times that it's stayed with me. I'm always so scared, but what frightens me even more is that I know what's coming and I can't stop it. It's not knowing that gets to me, and wondering if this time, someone I love is going to get hurt," Harry paused, "The way Cedric got hurt."

There was silence, and then Ginny sighed.

Harry looked up, completely forgetting about everything he had just been saying and grabbed her hand. 

"Ginny? Ginny!" He looked at her expectantly, waiting for anything. A fluttering of eyelashes, a movement, an intake of breath. And then, unmistakably, Harry felt the light pressure of Ginny's hand lightly squeezing his own. Harry gasped as his heartbeat quickened. She had moved, she had heard him. She was going to be okay!

He quickly got up from his chair and ran out to the hallway. The whole Weasley family, including Ron and Hermione, looked up at him, alarmed.

"She sighed," he said. "I was talking to her and when I finished she sighed, as if she'd heard everything. And then she moved! She squeezed my hand!" Mrs. Weasley covered her mouth in surprise and her eyes filled with tears. Fred and George stood up quickly from where they'd been sitting, Charlie's eyes glittered with hope, Bill looked eagerly at the doorway, Percy straightened up in his chair, Hermione hugged Ron, who seemed dazed by Harry's words and Mr. Weasley rushed up to Mrs. Weasley and took her hand tightly in his own. 

"My baby," Mrs. Weasley said quietly and then sprang into action. "Percy, go get the doctors." Percy nodded, got up and then ran down the hallway, ministry robes billowing out behind him, all dignity forgotten. Mrs. Weasley turned to Bill. "Bill, dear, if you could please run home and get us all a change of clothes, we could all freshen up a bit. Heaven knows we're exhausted and must look a wreck. I don't want Ginny to see us looking like we do." Bill nodded somewhat reluctantly. He didn't want to go. "Please Bill." Mrs. Weasley pleaded. Bill sighed, gave Charlie a quick look and disapparated. Mrs. Weasley sighed as well. "All right, let's go in." She bustled quickly to the door of the room and rushed inside. Everyone followed her, Harry and Ron going in last.

"Ron, what was that all about with Bill and Charlie?" Harry asked.

Ron sighed. "Charlie wouldn't have gone. He hasn't left the hospital since he got here with you. And he hasn't left the nurses or doctors alone the whole time. The thing is, Charlie feels a lot worse about what happened than anyone else, I imagine."

Harry was confused. "What? Why?"

Ron looked at Harry appraisingly. "Didn't Charlie tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Ron looked at the floor for a moment before answering. "Charlie feels like it's his fault that Ginny's hurt."

Harry looked over in Charlie's direction. The short and stocky red-head was leaning against the wall a bit away from everyone else watching Ginny with a very worried look on his face. His eyes glistened with tears and he suddenly looked away as though the sight pained him.

"Why?" Harry turned back to Ron who shook his head. 

"We've all told him that it's ridiculous and that there's nothing he could have done, but he won't listen." Ron looked over at his older brother with concern. "Charlie was on holiday for a bit and was visiting home. He needed a few things so he came with us to Diagon Alley. Ginny needed a couple of things from the same store Charlie did, so they went off together." Here Ron paused. Harry had already figured out what had happened. When Ron continued, his voice was low and pained. "He was with her when it happened. They walked out of the shop straight into the middle of it. Charlie ducked and tried to pull Ginny down, but she was so scared." Ron's voice cracked and he closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. "She was so scared that she couldn't move. That was when she was hit. I can't imagine what she went through, but Charlie was there right next to her. He hasn't gone into details but you've told me what Cruciatus is like. And there was nothing he could have done. He tried to curse the Death Eater-" Ron said the phrase with venom, "But he ducked and cursed Ginny again." Ron swallowed.

Harry could picture it all in his mind. If he knew Charlie then he knew he would have tried everything he could to save her, including jumping in front of any curses aimed at his sister, but in all the chaos, he probably hadn't been able to get his bearings. Harry looked at Charlie again, now understanding more than ever why he'd been in such a state when he got to the Burrow. 

The Burrow. "Ron?" Harry asked his best friend. 

"Yeah?" Ron said.

"If Charlie wouldn't have gone now, why did he come get me from your house? He must have been waiting for me for a couple of hours at least."

Ron gave a small grin. "Well, he's trying to do everything he can to help her. He, like Mum, figured you'd be part of it. Personally, I actually agree with them."

"Huh?" Harry looked at his friend as though he'd sprouted an extra head. He sighed in exasperation. "Ron, I don't know why you're all so sure that I could help. It's ridiculous. What could I possibly do?"

Ron suddenly looked much more serious. "Look, Harry, I don't know if you've noticed but my sister has liked you from the moment she saw you. But _really liked you. You don't live with her, so you don't know what it's like. Harry, I've always been closest to her, she's like my best friend, and I can usually tell things about her that nobody else knows. I'm not sure she'd appreciate me telling you this, Harry, but the truth is, what she feels about you, well, it goes much deeper than anyone else thinks it does."_

Harry's heart was racing, though he didn't know why. Slowly he asked, "What do you mean, Ron?"

Ron ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up all over. "I don't know exactly, I just know that she likes you for a lot more than just being 'famous Harry Potter'". Harry winced at the title. Ron ignored him and continued. "I really think that your just being here might have helped her more than anything the doctors are doing. You do something to her, Harry." Ron looked Harry straight in the eye. "Believe me, she felt you the moment you walked through the door last night."

Harry looked away from Ron's gaze over at Ginny's bed. The whole Weasley family was crowded around her looking eagerly for any movement. He suddenly felt that he had to sit down. He couldn't take any of this anymore. It was too much in too short a time. He'd never known Ron to speak so openly about things and he couldn't believe the things he'd told him. He'd always known about Ginny's crush. Inside, he'd begun to suspect though that there was more to it than that. Ron's words confirmed that. What scared him, however, were the unexpected feelings that came along with the confirmation. His heart was beating wildly and he felt excited and happy and scared and nervous all at the same time. But he didn't want to feel that way. He didn't! He tried to push it all away. He couldn't like Ginny Weasley. He wouldn't allow himself to. It would just be bad for her. She shouldn't like him to begin with. And why now? Why did he suddenly feel this way if he hadn't for four years? 

"Harry? What's wrong?" Mrs. Weasley's voice penetrated his thoughts.

"What?" He looked up, startled.

"You suddenly went all pale dear. You look like you're about to collapse."

Harry tried to compose himself. "It's nothing. I just, uh, don't feel so good." Ron was still looking at him piercingly. "How's Ginny?

Mrs. Weasley looked over her shoulder at her daughter. "I don't know, Percy still hasn't come back with the doctor." The words had barely been uttered when Percy walked through the door with a tall, black-haired, bespectacled woman in a long, formal white robe whom Harry assumed was the doctor. A hush fell over the room and nine sets of eyes turned in her direction. 

The doctor pursed her lips disapprovingly at the number of people in the room, but apparently decided to overlook it because of the eagerness that filled each face. She took out a magical clipboard with a scroll of parchment and a quill. "Mrs. Weasley?" She asked. Molly Weasley stepped forward nervously. "Yes, Dr. Farrow?" Dr. Farrow took a deep breath. "I know that you are all nervous about the situation. This time I'll make an exception, however I must request that only three people at most be allowed in the room at a time in the future. All right?" Mrs. Weasley nodded and sighed.

"Very well." Dr. Farrow smiled. "Let's see how Ginny is doing, shall we?" Everyone moved away from the bed quickly and the doctor stepped forward, pulling her wand from a pocket in her robe. As everyone watched on with bated breath, she prodded and poked, here and there, listening to Ginny's heartbeat and breathing, checking her pulse and muttering a few spells that Harry didn't know. She scribbled a few notes on her scroll and then turned to face the rest of the people in the room. 

Harry held his breath, as must have all the others because the room became so still that a pin drop would have resounded loudly through the silence. Dr. Farrow looked a bit affronted for a moment. Harry understood. Had he been facing seven redheaded, hot-tempered Weasleys, all looking at him like that, he would have felt at least a bit daunted. But Dr. Farrow quickly pulled herself together and smiled. "I'm glad to tell you, that I believe Ginny is going to be fine. She's out of danger and should wake up soon." 

Mrs. Weasley gave a cry of relief and proceeded to sob into Mr. Weasley's shoulder, who looked incredibly relieved. The twins let out whoops and Ron sighed audibly. Harry himself didn't know quite what he felt. Relief was the first thing he noticed, followed quickly by a sudden urge to fling himself at Ginny and hold her tightly so that she'd never be hurt again. He restrained himself, however and contented himself with a mile wide grin. But out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Charlie slip quietly out the door into the hallway. He had a feeling he should follow him. Harry was loath to leave Ginny's side now that he knew she was going to be ok and that she might wake up any time, but he knew that her parents would want to sit with her now anyway. 

He followed Charlie out the door, ignoring the puzzled look Ron sent in his direction as Dr. Farrow was lecturing Fred and George for talking about setting off a few Fillibuster Fireworks when Ginny was awake. She was saying that Ginny still needed plenty of rest and that she would be very weak for quite a while. The twins were rolling their eyes everytime she turned her back on them to speak to someone else. 

Once out in the hallway, Harry looked around for Charlie. He spotted him near the nurses' station at the far end and ran towards him. "Charlie!" he called, "Charlie!" 

Charlie turned his head towards the shout and when he saw who it was, sighed. Harry reached him quickly and stood for a moment looking at him. Charlie looked relieved but possibly even more nervous than he had before. "What's wrong?" Harry asked him. "Why did you leave? Ginny's going to be all right!"

Charlie looked down at his hands. He took a moment in answering, as though afraid of letting his thoughts be known. "I can't Harry," he said simply, and when he looked up, Harry saw that his eyes were filled with tears. 

"Can't what?" Harry asked gently, although he thought he already knew. If Charlie was feeling guilty, well, Harry had had enough experience with guilt to know what he was going through. 

Charlie was trying as hard as he could not to cry. "I can't see her. I mean, I'm glad that she's going to be alright, but the thing is, I know it's not any thanks to me that she is. I couldn't do anything, Harry," Charlie said in desperation, "All I could do was stand and watch, while she, while they-" Charlie took a deep steadying breath and continued. "I could hear her screaming, and I couldn't stop it. I couldn't save her." Charlie leaned back against the wall and brought his hands to his face. "When it was all over," he said, "I looked around, and there she was, on the floor, as pale as death itself." Charlie swallowed. "And I thought, 'That's it, Ginny's dead! And I just let it happen.' That was when I saw she was still breathing, but I swear, in those few seconds before, I knew exactly what it would feel like to lose somebody I loved, and now I'm so afraid that it'll happen for real, that I can barely take it." Harry watched Charlie struggling, and knew exactly what he was talking about. Charlie paused. When he continued, his voice was barely higher than a whisper. "So that's why I can't, Harry. I can't face her, knowing that I could have stopped it somehow and didn't, and knowing that if we had all lost her, it would have been my fault."

Harry stood against the wall next to Charlie, sticking his hands in his pockets. He leaned his head back, thinking. He knew what Charlie felt, it was almost exactly how he felt about what had happened to Cedric. Only, when he looked at Charlie's situation, he realized that Charlie had no reason to feel guilty. He really couldn't have done anything about the situation. He couldn't have stopped the Death Eaters from apparating to where they did, or known that one of them would single out Ginny as a target. He couldn't have known that there would be so much chaos that he'd be able to do nearly nothing at all, or that Ginny would be badly hurt because they walked out of the store when they did. 

Could the same go for what had happened with Cedric?

"Charlie, it wasn't your fault that Ginny was hurt," Harry said. Charlie snorted in disbelief. Harry stood up and faced the older Weasley. "No, listen to me!" Something in Harry's voice must have got Charlie's attention because he looked at Harry seriously and was silent. Harry took a deep breath. "It wasn't your fault with Ginny. You couldn't have known that any of those things were going to happen, and trust me, I've been in enough of these situations to know that there really was nothing you could do. Nothing, Charlie. There was probably too much of a mess for either of you to get a clear picture of what was going on and by the time you did, it was over, right?" Charlie paused before nodding reluctantly. "Right," Harry said again, though this time more to himself than to Charlie. There was nothing Charlie could have done. The situation had been out of his hands. "Just like Cedric." He sighed softly to himself and leaned back against the wall. That was when he realized he'd said the last few words out loud. He glanced up quickly to find Charlie looking at him with understanding in his eyes. And something else. Respect? He let out a deep breath, as though he'd been holding it since Ginny had been hurt. "Yeah," he said after a moment, and the despair was gone from his voice, "Just like Cedric." 


	7. Just Harry

****

**Chapter six:**

The following day, Harry was sitting out in the hallway with Ron and Hermione, discussing the previous day's events. Neither Harry nor Ron had brought up the topic they'd spoken about yesterday in Ginny's room and Harry was glad. It had been awkward enough before. Ron telling him that his little sister had major feelings for him had been slightly on the strange side.

He'd known about Ginny's crush. He hadn't really known that it was more, maybe a small part of him had. The part that he never listened to. But now that he knew, he was finding it very hard to ignore certain feelings that he was having. He had first noticed them (and ignored them) the day he had returned from Godric's Hollow. That had been only two days ago. But he had been thinking about the Chamber of Secrets and he couldn't think about that without thinking of Ginny and how he'd found her. But that day, something had nagged at him, and yesterday, the nag had become impossible to push aside. 

"Dr. Farrow said there's a good chance she'll wake up today," Hermione was telling a very disgruntled Ron. They had been trying to cheer Ron up for the past half hour. He knew Ginny was going to be fine, but he wouldn't be completely at ease until she had woken up and he had spoken to her. 

"Yes I know," he said, annoyed. "But I'm still worried. I can't help it." Hermione smiled. 

"Well," she continued, "If worrying is what makes you feel better, then-" Hermione shrugged and Harry had to grin. Ron usually hated worrying about anything. Homework, classes, exams, anything. Ron just rolled his eyes, and continued staring gloomily down the hallway. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances.

"You know what Ron?" Hermione asked him gently. "Why don't we go for a walk outside?" Ron shook his and Hermione gave Harry a desperate look. 

"Yeah, Ron," he said, realizing the hint, "A walk. The air might do you good. You're starting to look a bit green. Who knows? You might end up having to stay here yourself!" 

Hermione giggled and even Ron gave a weak smile. After a pause he sighed and said, 

"You're right. Maybe I am worrying too much." He stood up. "All right Hermione, I'll come with you. On one condition." 

Hermione nodded. "And that is?"

Ron turned to Harry. "You stay here. If Ginny wakes up, come and get me right away. Agreed?" Harry agreed and Ron and Hermione walked off together down the hallway.

Left alone, Harry sat in silence staring at the blank walls, trying not to think about anything. But anyone who has ever tried not to think of anything knows that the only thing they accomplish in that is to think about not thinking, and then, once they've realized that they're thinking of not thinking, they begin thinking of exactly what they didn't want to think about to begin with. And so it was that Harry's thoughts drifted to Ron's words the previous day.

_"I'm not sure she'd appreciate me telling you this, Harry, but the truth is, what she feels about you, well, it goes much deeper than anyone else thinks it does… Believe me, she felt you the moment you walked through the door last night."_

Harry sighed and put his head in his hands. 

_"I just know that she likes you for a lot more than just being 'famous Harry Potter'… You do something to her, Harry." _

Ron shouldn't have told him anything. His head was reeling with more than he could handle just then. 

Harry suddenly lifted his head as he remembered the feeling he used to get when he was around Cho. What he was feeling now, about what Ron had told him, was nothing like that. The feeling was… strange. Harry had no words for it, he didn't think words could explain it. Maybe that meant that he didn't feel anything about Ginny? 

Somehow he didn't think so. So what did he feel? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, remembering something Su-Ling had taught him to do. She had called it 'finding your center', erasing everything and just listening to yourself. He had thought it was silly when she'd shown him, but now realized that he'd do anything to clear all of the confusing thoughts from his head, and he didn't exactly have a Pensieve. 

He straightened up and focused on a place deep inside him. Su-Ling had explained that there was a spot in each person that could not be touched by the outside world, only one spot where you were really you and nothing else. A place where you were your pure self. 

Harry took deep breaths as he struggled to find it. Slowly, very slowly, he began to sink away into blackness, the sounds and smells of the hospital corridors melting away, slowly, until there was just the beat of his heart. He focused on it, beating out the never-ceasing pattern of his life. Harry didn't realize, but his breathing slowed until his chest barely seemed to be moving at all. His muscles completely relaxed. Harry didn't even realize that his heartbeat had slowed to a regular, steady pulse. Everything disappeared and for a moment there was just him. He became completely aware of himself in a way he'd never been before. He was in a place where he wasn't a messy haired boy with glasses and a scar. Instead, he was more Him than he could ever be. There was nothing physical to his self at all. 'Harry' wasn't the boy sitting in the children's ward at St. Mungo's. He was inside. There, was simply Him in every way he could be. All this was realized in less than a second and a moment later, Harry dove into his true self, searching for things he knew, but wouldn't allow to surface, yearning for them. Desperate to know everything about Himself.

He was nearly torn apart.

At first, Harry was sure he had done something wrong. There was fire smoldering there, burning with unsuppressed heat and intensity. Harry tried to get out, but he was trapped within the blaze. He tried to shield, but how could he hide from Himself? There were flashes of bright red and orange. There were blue and even white-hot flames, they roared silently and yet somehow broke all stillness and solace Harry had found before. He struggled uselessly to escape before he got burnt, and it was while he fought at the fierceness of Him, that he realized he wasn't being scorched. The fire raged and flared, but it was part of him, and so, couldn't harm him in the way Harry feared. However, he realized, it was ever growing and he could feel the strength of it, that it would devour him if left unchecked. But what surprised Harry most was the power there. Power that he would have never expected to find. Great power. He was shaking with it, deep inside. His very soul trembled with it.

Uncertainly, he reached his thought out to the nearest flame. Even before he touched it, he could feel the strength coming from it. He hesitated perhaps a millisecond before plunging his whole awareness inside.

Had Harry a voice where he was, he would have screamed, though not with pain. Some people might have called it that, for lack of a better word, but in truth it was as far from pain as could be. Harry was nearly consumed with the sheer magnitude of his power, and the knowledge that beat at him from every angle, all at the same time. And it didn't stop, it just kept coming and coming. There was no peace, and at the same time, Harry thought he might lose himself to the completeness and consciousness of everything. He nearly did. There was a pull, an allure to being entirely whole with yourself, even if it would mean self-destruction for just that one second of utter joy at knowing all, because it was all there. Secrets that remained undiscovered, simply because those who did discover them didn't live to tell the tale. time disappeared. He might have been there for seconds, or for weeks. As far as he knew, time didn't exist anymore, he didn't exist anymore, or wouldn't if he didn't stop. 

Maybe it was that thought, that sudden reference to himself that saved him. He suddenly understood that he couldn't stay there anymore, he had to get away to live, but while before, he couldn't get away for lack of strength, now he had his own power to draw on. He called it to him, summoned energy from within, and with a force equal to that of the fury around him, pushed away as hard as he could.

Harry heard a great crash a moment before he opened his eyes to the white washed walls of the corridor in which he still sat. His breathing was completely normal and his body was limp, which Harry had not expected after what he had just felt. He looked around just as a nurse rushed in to a room two doors down from Ginny's. He heard screaming from inside and a moment later the nurse was back in the corridor, followed by a very angry looking witch. 

"It simply exploded just now! Just like that! Vases don't simply explode on their own, and they certainly don't levitate themselves around a room before doing so!" The woman looked as though she might explode as well. "My poor baby!" She wailed! "My poor little Thadeus! He was scared silly! You call this a hospital? What sort of hospital has flying vases that explode without notice? I want to speak to the Chief of Staff! Now!"

The nurse was trying to tell the enraged woman that she couldn't explain what had happened, and would run to get the Chief of Staff right away. The woman ignored her and stormed off down the hallway to find him herself. The nurse nearly burst into tears as she ran after her.

Harry watched this exchange silently, a funny suspicion growing inside him. He quietly got to his feet and walked over to the room from which the two women had just come out. He peered curiously inside only to find a little boy of about four or five, sitting up in bed, looking ecstatic. His left arm was in a sling. 

"Hello." Harry said, smiling as he entered. The boy just laughed and exclaimed, "The fwowers went Boom!" and collapsed in peals of delighted laughter. Harry shook his head, a grin playing on his lips. 

"Are you Thadeus?" he asked the little boy, who nodded vigorously in answer to the question. 

"Wook! Wook!" Thadeus exclaimed in delight and pointed to the far end of the room. Harry did and wasn't surprised to see what must have once been a large vase, shattered in pieces all over the floor. The pieces were mixed up with petals of various colors and stems were scattered here and there. Harry raised an eyebrow at the mess before turning back to Thadeus. 

"Did the flowers do anything else before they went boom?" Thadeus giggled and covered his mouth with his right hand. He nodded, his eyes wide. Harry had to smile at his excitement. "What?" he asked. 

Thadeus lowered his hand and then whispered, "They fwew, and Mummy was scared!" before collapsing again with laughter. 

Harry furrowed his brow in thought. He'd heard the crash right before he came to. Could there have been a connection? He could still feel himself tingling from the amount of power he had used, power he hadn't even known he had. And there had been so much more…

Wishing Thadeus good-bye he went back into the corridor still wondering if he had somehow managed to levitate the vase and then blow it up. He had done things like that before, but so did every witch or wizard if they were pushed into it. Every time he'd been afraid or angry, he'd managed to make things happen, things he didn't intend to. The problem was, he hadn't really been either this time…

He stopped outside Ginny's door and looked at it, thinking hard. He'd never felt anything like what he'd just been through, and somehow he knew that that wasn't what Su-Ling found when she looked in herself. He still didn't even know how he'd done it, and he wasn't too eager to try it again very soon. There had been a moment when he'd nearly gone over the edge, and given himself up completely. He was sure he would have died if he'd done it. Yet, he suddenly found he hungered for it, the place where he could have really truly been free, been at one with everything. But he knew with abrupt certainty that he would never allow himself to give into it, he couldn't.

He had gone to clear his thoughts, to make sense of them. And he had. 

He pushed the door slowly open and stepped into the room. Mrs. Weasley looked up from her seat, where she was knitting a new sweater, apparently for Ginny, according to its size. She gave him a puzzling look.

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry began, "Could I sit with Ginny alone for a bit?"

Molly Weasley's gaze softened considerably with understanding. She gathered up her yarn and needles. "Of course, Harry dear." She bustled past Harry, winking at him just before she was out the door, which shut silently behind her. 

Harry watched her leave silently, composing himself before turning towards the fragile redhead on the bed behind him. When all was silent in the room, he turned to face her. Her hair was spread out behind her in a tumble of red and orange curls on the stark white pillow. The covers were drawn up to her waist and Harry could see her chest rising and falling slowly with her steady breathing. Unexpectedly, she made a little snuffling sound in her slumber and Harry had a sudden urge to touch her face.

He quietly crossed the room until he stood directly beside the bed and looked down at her. 

'She has so many freckles', Harry thought suddenly, 'More than I could count in a million years.' He pulled up the chair Mrs. Weasley had previously been sitting in and sat down, taking Ginny's hand in his own as he did so.

"Hey Gin," he said finally. He watched her face to see if there was any sign that Ginny acknowledged his presence. There wasn't, but he suddenly discovered something he'd overlooked before. There was a small curl dangling on her face, and it blew gently about with Ginny's breathing. It was such a small thing, but it made Harry smile, really smile, and it made him hopeful. For some reason it was uniquely Ginny. He carefully brushed it aside with his thumb, electric jolts going through it as he did so. Ginny frowned in her sleep, and Harry quickly withdrew his hand, afraid he might disturb her further.

Strangely out of breath, Harry sat back and watched her frown disappear and she snuffled again.

"Ginny, there are a few things I've been wanting to tell you," Harry said carefully, suddenly wanting to confess all of his faults and secrets and fears and dreams to her. 

"First of all," he began nervously, "I've known about your crush for a long time. I never paid you much attention and you don't know how sorry I am for that. I want to get to know you better, I really do. I don't know. " Harry ran a hand through his hair, "I feel as though I've missed out on something for the past four years. I want to make up for lost time. I want us to be friends." Harry paused, hesitating before he continued. "Maybe more." He looked up, wishing with all his might that Ginny would wake up. He continued, "I was so scared when I got that letter from your mum, and part of it was that I had never really known you. All I could think of was the Chamber of Secrets the whole time. The way Riddle had taken almost all of the life you had. I thought it was all over…" 

Harry trailed off, the memory clear in his mind. 

_"Ginny- don't be dead- please don't be dead… Ginny please wake up!" _

The desperation he'd felt at that moment had been incredible. He could still remember every detail of that fateful night. Then Riddle had appeared. Voldemort. 

Harry shuddered and looked at Ginny. If he hadn't gone down there that night, everything would be different. Ginny wouldn't be here, she'd be dead, and Harry knew he would have blamed himself if she'd died. He had given himself a second chance, without even realizing, and he wasn't about to ruin it. Harry had realized a few minutes ago, that that was a chance he wanted very badly. He made a promise to himself then and there. When Ginny woke up, things were going to be different. He was going to get to know her better. He wanted to. She was, well, there was something about her that Harry couldn't quite explain. 

"Ginny, from now on, I'll be there whenever you need me," Harry said suddenly, standing up and walking to the window. He looked out onto the gardens below. St. Mungo's was a well concealed hospital, available and known only to those of the Wizarding World. None of the Muggles outside these walls knew of its presence. The hospital was surrounded by several magical gardens, many of them containing the magical herbs and plants used in healing potions.

Harry took in a deep breath of air. Laden as it was with magic, it tingled in his chest and gave him strength. He turned back and went over to Ginny's bed. He hesitated a moment before leaning over her.

"Wake up soon, Ginny," he whispered in her ear. "Please," he pleaded, and before he could stop himself, kissed her lightly on her forehead. He startled back in surprise after a second and brought his fingers to his lips, breathing erratically. Electricity was coursing through him, from his lips, where it started, all the way to his toes. Ginny shifted in her sleep, her brow furrowed. 

Harry turned quickly to leave. He didn't know what had compelled him to just do that, but he shouldn't have. He had nearly reached the door when-

"Harry?"

A moment before, his heart had been beating non-stop. Now it stopped completely. 

Ginny's voice was raspy and low, but it was her voice. Slowly, he turned around, half afraid, half unnaturally hopeful, until he found himself facing Ginny. She was awake.

All of his worries of a moment before disappeared in thin air, as waves of relief crashed over him. 

"Ginny," he whispered, and in a second he was next to her. She looked exhausted and slightly in pain and Harry noticed that she didn't try to move. 

"Harry, what happened? Where am I?" she sounded remarkably confused and afraid. 

"What can you remember?" he asked her gently.

"The last thing I remember is Diagon Alley and coming out of the shop with Charlie when-" Ginny suddenly stopped mid-sentence, and her face went deathly pale. "Good Gryffindor," she whispered. "The attack. I remember." Her eyes suddenly filled with tears and she tried to sit up in bed, but Harry held her firmly down by her shoulders. 

"No. Don't try to get up. You need your strength, Ginny." Ginny looked up at Harry, her eyes filled with tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She tried again, but couldn't get the words out. Her eyes were filled with unspeakable pain, and Harry almost couldn't stand to look at them. He understood.

"I know," he said, soothingly. "You don't have to say anything. Believe me, I know." He looked down at her face, and she must have seen something in his eyes to show her it was true.

Then Ginny suddenly gasped. "Charlie!" she cried. "What about Charlie? He was with me. Oh, please tell me nothing happened to him. Harry, you have to tell me!" Ginny began to sob and Harry tried to calm her down. 

"Ginny! Ginny, don't worry, Charlie's fine. Nothing happened to him. He's ok." But Ginny had already started crying, and he knew that now that the tears had come, it would be easiest for her to let them all out. 

He stood up to go, he had after all, promised Ron that if Ginny woke up while he was away, he'd call him. A small hand suddenly grabbed at his sleeve. 

"No, Harry! Please don't go. Don't leave me." Ginny pleaded with him. 

"Shhh. It's alright. I'm just going to call your Mum, and everyone else. They all want to see you. I'll come back. I promise." Harry wanted nothing more than to stay with Ginny just then, but he knew that he couldn't. Her family needed to see her. Ginny nodded reluctantly and let go him. Harry smiled briefly and walked out into the hallway, trying to keep himself from crying with relief. 

"Mrs. Weasley!" he called excitedly, upon spotting her a ways down the hall. She turned at his call and he ran up to her. "She's awake. Ginny's awake!" 

"Ginny?!!" Mrs. Weasley cried out shrilly. "Oh, my little baby! Arthur!" she called, as the father of the Weasley clan strode towards them. "She's awake!" Mr. Weasley dropped the cup of coffee he'd been holding. 

"She's awake?" he asked softly, as though hardly daring to believe it. He looked from his wife to Harry and back again. "Well, what are we standing here for?" And he walked briskly off with Mrs. Weasley right behind him.

Harry watched them go, and just heard Mrs. Weasley's excited screech as he turned to run down to the gardens. The sunlight was a welcome change after the dimness of the inside and Harry slowed down a bit as he twisted through the different paths, looking for Ron and Hermione. 

He found them five minutes later, sitting on a bench under a large oak tree, Hermione leaning back into Ron, who had his arms around her. 

Harry paused before they saw him. For some reason, he had a feeling he'd caught them in a private moment. Harry was rather surprised. One didn't normally come upon Ron and Hermione in a peaceful state such as they were in now, and Harry had to wonder… He'd suspected since last year at the Yule Ball that Ron had feelings for Hermione, and he was quite sure Hermione felt the same way. The question was, had they realized it themselves?

Harry took a deep breath and walked over to them. Ron immediately pulled away, blushing furiously and even Hermione lost the "high and mighty" look she usually wore. 

Harry had to smile at them, and he would have teased Ron to no end, had there not been more pressing matters at hand.

"Ron, she's awake." 

Ron's face went from bright red to porridge white before flushing again with excitement. He got up abruptly from the bench and Hermione followed him. 

"Oh Ron, she's awake!" she cried, and she hugged him tightly, all dignity forgotten. Ron didn't seem to care. He looked as dazed as if the Cannons had just won the Cup.

"When can I see her? What did she say? Is she ok? Does she remember everything?" The questions seemed unending. 

"Ron, don't worry. You can see her as soon as your parents are done," Harry said soothingly. "Don't forget what Dr. Farrow said. She doesn't want everyone barging in at once, it's not good for Ginny." Ron nodded. 

"Ok," he said, taking a deep breath. "All right. Ginny's alright." Harry had to smile at the relief in Ron's voice. Ron turned slightly sideways and wiped a hand over his eyes before turning back to them. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go see her."

~*~

It was a while before Harry got to go in and see Ginny again. After Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had talked to her, Ron had gone in. He'd spent an entire hour inside, and when he'd come out, Harry was sure that his eyes were redder than when he'd entered. Fred and George had gone next, and everyone had been able to hear Ginny's irrepressible giggles coming from inside the room. Then Bill and Percy.

Last of all, Charlie had gone in apprehensively. He'd waited outside the entire time, wringing his hands and pacing back and forth until Harry was sure he'd make a hole in the ground. He'd spent a long time inside, longer than Ron, and when he'd come out at last, his face had shone with relief. He'd gone straight to his mother and hugged her tightly and cried. "I'm so glad she's ok," was all he'd been able to say.

Hermione had gone in next for a few minutes, and finally it was Harry's turn. 

He pushed the door slowly open, his stomach flip-flopping as he did, and walked inside. 

Ginny had been staring out the window but turned to face him as he came towards her. She blushed to the roots of her hair, and Harry realized that he'd missed it. The elbow in the butter dish, bowls and forks clattering to the floor, mumbled undistinguishable words. They'd always made him feel rather flattered, and for a wonder, Harry found that he too, was blushing profusely. He stood awkwardly to the side before pulling up a chair next to her bed.

"Hi Harry," Ginny said, in barely more than a whisper.

"Hi," he answered the same way.

They both sat quietly, the silence slowly growing unbearable as each struggled to find something to say. Ginny finally spoke.

"Harry, about earlier…" she began, and trailed off. 

Harry looked up, panicked. Earlier? What did she mean by earlier? Had she heard everything Harry had said, had she realized that he'd, he'd… kissed her? He felt himself beginning to choke and blurted out, "Look, Ginny, about kissing you, I-"

"Kissing me?" Ginny's face was incredulous. "When did you kiss me?"

Harry nearly died. Ok, so that hadn't been what she'd meant... He suddenly found himself incapable of speech. The knowledge that he'd just made a complete ass of himself came at him from every direction, and he wished the earth would swallow him right then and there.

"Kissing you?" he asked. He cursed himself inwardly at the squeak that had seemed to replace his own voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Kissing you? I didn't say kissing you, did I?" He shook his head as though to prove his own words. "No, I said missing you, yes, that's it. Missing you." Harry had slowly got up from his chair and was backing away towards the window. Maybe he could jump before she tried to stop him.

Ginny's face was eerily impassive. "Harry, I know what I heard. You said 'kissing', I'm sure of it."

"No, I didn't." It came out as more of a plea than any form of defense, and that he chose that second to blush again, was a slight give-away.

Ginny's eyes widened and she leaned back against her pillows. "I thought I'd dreamed that," she whispered to herself, "I was sure I did." She touched her forehead gently. "I was drowning and I heard you calling me back, only, I couldn't find you and I couldn't breath any more. And then-" she paused, a small smile tugging at her lips, "and then you were right there, right in front of me…" Ginny sighed. "You pulled me back."

Harry didn't know what to say to this, so he simply stood by the window awkwardly, still wondering if there would be a need to jump. 

There was silence in the room. Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep breath and for a moment seemed to forget that Harry was there. She looked as though she would have been content to remain right where she was for the rest of her life and as the first shock passed, Harry suddenly realized that maybe it wasn't so bad that he'd completely embarrassed himself. He sat on the windowsill and looked at Ginny, wondering what she was thinking. He knew what he wanted her to be thinking, but somehow didn't think that was it. 

Ginny slowly opened her eyes and Harry immediately sat up straighter nearly falling out of the window for real. He steadied himself and blushed.

"Harry?" Ginny's voice was soft, inquiring.

"Yes?" he replied, taking a deep breath, wondering what she would ask.

"Well, that dream I had. It- it wasn't the only one." Ginny paused and sighed. "There were other ones. Lovely ones." Ginny smiled but blushed as she caught Harry's questioning glance.

Harry, on his part, had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Other dreams? What kind of dreams exactly? He thought he knew, but he hoped he was wrong. Very wrong.

"Oh?" was all he said, trying to keep his face impassive.

Ginny looked away, towards the floor. "Yes. They were lovely. You were in them," she whispered and then looked up, wide-eyed as though realizing she had said that out loud without having meant to. She brought a hand to her mouth and shook her head.

But even though Harry already had a feeling he knew what she was talking about (actually at this point he was sure) he was temporarily intrigued. Lovely dreams? That Ginny would call a dream that he had been in 'lovely' (even if she hadn't intended to) made him feel a bit giddy.

Harry realized he was staring and quickly looked away.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said a moment later, "I shouldn't have said that."

Harry looked up, for some reason half-panicking. "No," he said without meaning to.

Ginny stared at him questioningly.

Harry gazed down at his shoes. "Don't stop because of me."

Had Harry not found his shoes so interesting, he might have seen the completely shocked expression on Ginny's face. 

There was a moment of silence and then she spoke. "Well," she began a bit hesitantly, "I dreamt that you were talking to me. Just talking. But the funny thing is, I can't remember any of the things you said."

Harry looked up suddenly, his heart pounding in relief. Ginny didn't notice this and went on. 

"But I do remember that sometimes the things you said made me want to laugh and shout, but other times they just made me so sad…" Ginny trailed off, her brow furrowed, trying to remember. 

Harry mentally slapped himself. He shouldn't have told Ginny half of the things he'd said. Why hadn't he thought that if she had heard him, those things would have only put her in a bad mood that wouldn't have been good for her recovery? But then again, he reflected, at the time, he hadn't really been paying much attention to _what he had been saying. The point had been that he was saying __something._

"Ginny, I'm sorry. I never meant to-" but Ginny cut him off.

"Yes, I know, Harry." She looked at him, but Harry couldn't make out her expression.

There were a few minutes of silence, though not an awkward one such as before. Each was deep in thought.

"Harry, I want to ask you," Ginny began, "did you talk to me all this time? I mean," Ginny explained frantically and blushed, "those dreams. They weren't just dreams. Right?"

Harry wondered for a moment at how anxious Ginny looked. Why was this so important to her? But he answered all the same.

"They weren't dreams," he said softly. "The doctors said that it might help to talk to you, that you could probably hear our voices. So I talked. Half of it was nonsense really, I just said anything that came into my head. Other times it was just things that had happened over the summer."

Ginny nodded in understanding. "And the rest?" she asked softly.

Harry blushed slightly. The rest? Well he had told Ginny things he'd never told anyone before, but he hadn't thought that she'd really heard him. And yet… Harry had felt so comfortable talking to Ginny, even if the conversation had been one-sided. It had helped just to get those things out of his system. He wondered, if she _had heard him, what she would think of him now… _

"Just things…" he said quietly, looking away.

Harry was in trouble. Big trouble. Ginny had got that glint in her eye. The glint that belonged to the Weasley family alone. The glint that could make a teacher go mad or make students evacuate the premises. That mischievous, Fred and George, freckled, red-headed look…

"Oh?" Ginny said innocently. "Just things?"

Harry looked up at the tone in Ginny's voice. A small smile was curving the corners of her mouth and she looked much better than she had in a while. Harry was utterly confused but, he nodded.

Ginny's smile widened. "Well, if they were just things, then I'm sure you wouldn't mind telling me about them," she declared.

Harry swallowed. This wasn't going the way he'd planned. "Well, they weren't that important…"

Ginny pouted and stuck out her lower lip. "Of course they're important. So tell me. I'm sick and you should do what I say."

Harry had a brief recollection of what Charlie had told him about when Ginny had broken her leg and had all the Weasley boys at her service, doing her bidding. This was not good. 

"No, really. I wouldn't want to waste your time," he said, trying to get out of the sticky situation.

Ginny giggled. "What time?" she exclaimed, gesturing around the room. "Oh, wait. How could I forget? I have an important meeting with the Minister of Magic in a couple of minutes." She rolled her eyes at Harry, who couldn't help but roll his back. 

He sighed. "Ok, you win. They weren't just things." Ginny smiled at his defeat. "But," Harry continued, "at the time, I didn't think you understood what I was saying." He stepped away from the window and sat down in the chair next to her bed, looking rather sheepish. 

"I never told anyone some of those things. And some of it, I didn't really even realize before myself." Harry looked at Ginny, and when their eyes met, Harry could tell that she had left off her teasing. "I'm not sure I really want anyone to know everything." Harry leaned back in his chair, resting his chin in his hand. 

There was one thing that Harry did wanted to say. And he had come to the decision that he was going to say it. He took a deep breath. "One thing I do want you to know," Ginny looked at Harry curiously, "is that I'm sorry."

Ginny's expression changed from curiosity to complete confusion. "You're sorry? Whatever for?" she whispered.

Harry smiled weakly. "For everything. Ginny, all these years I've completely ignored you. I never meant to, but that doesn't change anything. And when you're mum sent me the letter telling me about what had happened in Diagon Alley, I realized what a huge mistake I made…" Harry looked away in shame. The next time he spoke, he knew that he was asking for a lot more than he deserved.

"Ginny, can we be friends? I'd really like to get to know you better, and I want to make up for- everything." That was it. It was out now and all Harry could do was wait for Ginny to answer.

But she didn't and Harry, wondering what was wrong, looked up to find Ginny's shocked expression. She had tears in her eyes.

Harry feared she would yell at him then, tell him he was hypocrite and a fake. She would have been right. But when she finally did speak, her voice was soft and warm. She smiled at him.

"Harry," she exclaimed in wonder, "you have nothing to apologize for!" She shook her head, her tears trickling down her face and laughed, "You saved my life when no one else asked you to, you've always been there if I ever needed you, you're the best friend my brother could ever ask for and most importantly, you're just Harry." Ginny finished breathlessly.

Just Harry? Harry gazed at Ginny in wonder. Just Harry? He smiled, as realization hit him. The one thing he'd ever really wanted in life, the only way he had ever wanted people to think of him… Ginny had given it that to him in a second. To her, he was just Harry, but the point was, that was enough.

"Ginny, I-" but Ginny cut him off.

"Of course we can be friends," she said, wiping her tears away and smiling. "There's no one I'd rather have as a friend than you. Ron and I are lucky." 

Harry blushed crimson with embarrassment. "No," he muttered, "I'm the lucky one. I don't know how I ended up with you, Ron and Hermione, but I'm the lucky one and I don't deserve it."

Ginny scowled. "Don't ever say that again, Harry Potter! Of course you deserve us!" 

Harry jumped. It was amazing how much Ginny sounded like Mrs. Weasley when she spoke that way.

Harry must have looked hilarious because Ginny burst out laughing a second later. He grinned sheepishly and then joined in.

When they both calmed down, Ginny held out her hand. "So," she exclaimed, "Friends for life?"

Harry's eyes locked with Ginny's as he held out his hand and took hers in it, ignoring the sparks that flew from his fingertips all the way down to his toes. "Yeah," he smiled, "Friends for life."

He leaned back in his chair, grinning, and that he recalled the dream he'd had the night before. He looked out the window and sighed inwardly. 

No matter what Ginny said, he really didn't deserve them, and he could only hope that they'd never find out why. 


	8. Rest and Relaxation

**Chapter 7:**

****

It was a pleasant morning at the Burrow. Breakfast was carrying on as usual and everyone was busy with their fried eggs or toast or sausages. Ron was busy with all three.

Mrs. Weasley was cooking for the big dinner they were going to have that night celebrating Ginny's return home, safe and sound. 

Fred was just asking George to pass him the jam when a shout carried down the stairs and everyone stopped what they were doing to hear what it was all about.

"All right! That's it! Where have all my socks gone?!!!!"

There was a fair amount of banging down the stairs, and a second later, Harry appeared, looking rather disheveled and more than a bit annoyed. He looked straight at Ginny, who looked blankly back at him.

"Why, what's wrong Harry?" she asked in an innocent tone.

Ron, Fred, George, Charlie, Bill, Percy, and Harry all snorted, Hermione giggled, while Ginny seemed to pay no notice and continued looking at Harry angelically. 

Harry raised his right hand, in which he was tightly holding a pair of awful gray scratchy socks that had once belonged to his uncle.

"Ginny," he began trying to sound patient and failing horribly, "I don't know how you did it, but I have no socks and I want them back. Now."

Ginny looked from Harry's face to his hand and back. "But Harry," she said sweetly, "you're holding a pair of socks right there."

At this point, Fred and George were shaking with silent laughter and even Percy was smiling, to an extent. 

"You call these socks?" Harry cried, outraged. "These are lumps of gray tweed that happen to be in the shape of socks. They are not going anywhere near my feet!" 

Ginny was giggling, and Harry had to smile. She looked so much better now that she'd been awake for three days. She was eating at home, at least. Ginny hadn't touched anything they'd served in the hospital and if the nurses had come anywhere near her with a tray, she went all green and woozy. Now Ginny had color back in her cheeks and she was taking it easy, slowly getting her strength back. But every so often, Harry caught glimpses of Ginny staring off into space, out the window, over the garden…. At these times, she looked so alone that it hurt Harry to look at her. She needed to talk to someone about what had happened. It would help her so much if someone else knew what she had been through.

Harry knew, at a certain level, having undergone torture and Death Eater attacks himself. But every person took things differently. Harry had a feeling Ginny would open up eventually. He was just waiting until she felt she could.

Harry thought of this as he watched Ginny laugh, and finally decided he'd live without socks. He'd borrow a pair from someone. Of course, eventually he'd have to plan revenge….

He sat down at the table and threw the socks in his hand across at Ginny, who barely managed to duck in time. Instead they hit Mrs. Weasley square in the back.

Everyone at the table fell silent. Mrs. Weasley turned around suddenly in surprise, looked down and picked the offending object off the floor.

Harry slumped down in his seat. Wonderful, all he needed to start his day would be to set Mrs. Weasley off.

"Honestly!" she exclaimed, looking down at the awful pair of socks. Harry slumped even lower, almost disappearing beneath the table.

"You'd think a star Quidditch player would have better aim, wouldn't you?" With that she threw the socks at Ginny, which hit her smack on the nose!

"Mum!" Ginny exclaimed, turning beet red. The table exploded with laughter and Harry got up, relieved. Mrs. Weasley winked at him and added six sausages to his plate.

Harry wriggled his bare toes under the table. It had come as a complete shock yesterday, when Harry had gone to put on a pair of socks only to find that half of them were missing. He had practically turned the room upside down when Ron had walked in and asked him what was going on. Harry had told him, and by the time he'd finished Ron had nearly collapsed from laughing so hard. It was then he had told Harry all about Ginny's sock fetish.

He wondered how she did it? And where did she put them all? Hmmm… these were very good questions with no known answers. And none of the Weasley brothers had ever managed to find out.

Harry was actually flattered that Ginny had stolen his socks, as odd as it sounded. He remembered how he'd asked her if they could be friends and she'd agreed whole-heartedly. Just like that. She wasn't angry with him for all the years he hadn't paid her any attention. She'd just given him her friendship, no questions asked. And the sock thing, well, that proved it.

"So," came Mrs. Weasley's voice from inside one of the cabinets, where she was searching for something. "What are you going to do today?" She emerged a moment later, victorious, a huge pot in her hands, which she briskly put on the stove and began to fill with various foodstuffs.

Everyone began speaking at once. Ginny and Hermione chatted to one another, Ron looked out the window as he asked Charlie if he were up to a game of Quidditch. Percy exclaimed proudly that he didn't have time to dawdle about when there was work to be done. But Fred and George were oddly silent. They seemed to be discussing something quietly and urgently. It reminded Harry of last year, when they'd been trying to blackmail Ludo Bagman. He watched them curiously for a few moments before suddenly realizing something.

"I haven't got my things for school yet." He could have killed himself because a moment later the table was silent and Ginny looked uneasily at the floor.

Harry sat stunned in the silence. "Oh, I didn't mean to-- what I mean is-- er…."

Mrs. Weasley smiled sympathetically. "It's all right, Harry," she said. "You can't be expected to go off to school without anything, can you? And besides," she turned back to the pot, which was now steaming and letting off a spectacular scent, "we haven't all finished our shopping either." Mrs. Weasley walked to the table and absent-mindedly began buttering Harry's toast for him. Harry smiled.

"Here's what I think we should do. Perhaps Ginny and Hermione will stay here and the rest of you go off to Diagon Alley to finish your shopping. Charlie?" she called. Charlie looked up from his porridge. 

"Yeah Mum?" 

Mrs. Weasley looked at him uneasily and hesitated for a moment. "I know you still have a few things you need to get while you're in town, but I could send a list with the others if you like."

Charlie looked gratefully at his mother and sighed in relief. "Yeah, that would be great, Mum." He smiled and went back to his porridge.

Mrs. Weasley faced the rest of the table. "Anyone else want to stay behind?" 

Percy nodded. "Yes, Mother. I have work, you know. I can't be expected to run a round with children all day." He received several fierce glares from around the table but seemed not to notice at all…. Mrs. Weasley tried to hide an amused smile.

"I'm staying," Ron exclaimed unexpectedly. Harry looked at his best friend in confusion. Ron seemed unaware that what he'd said was strange in any way. He glanced a moment at Hermione before continuing and Harry saw it. He smiled to himself smugly. Well that explained it….

"I reckon you can all do fine without me." He grinned jauntily. "Anyway, I finished all my shopping." Hermione scowled as though she seemed to highly doubt this. Ron rolled his eyes. The twins smirked.

"Very well," Mrs. Weasley said, "so that leaves Harry, Fred, George and...." Mrs. Weasley stopped suddenly. She huffed up and scowled.

"No," she said at last.

"Aww! Come on Mum!" Fred exclaimed.

"No."

"Mum! We're seventeen, we can take care of ourselves, and Harry!" George added.

"Oh?! More like Harry would end up taking care of you!" Mrs. Weasley was adamant.

Harry had just realized what was wrong, and he had to laugh. He, Fred and George were the only ones going….

The twins both gave identical sighs of exasperation. "Mum!" they wailed in unison. But their mother was as stubborn a person as anyone would ever find, and she firmly believed that Fred and George anywhere by themselves was a recipe for disaster.

"I said no and that's final. You three are not going by yourselves!" She glanced at Harry for a moment and he realized that she wasn't only worried about what they might do. She was worried about what might happen to him. 

Harry felt himself blush, but he was actually very pleased. He would never get used to people worrying and caring about his well being.

Fred and George sat back, defeated. "Well, then how are we going to get our things?" Fred pointed out.

Mrs. Weasley looked uncertain for a moment but then she turned to her eldest son. "Bill dear," she said, "would you mind taking them?"

Bill, who had been watching until now in amusement sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh, I don't know…." He smiled. "They can be quite a handful, you know…."

The twins were practically bouncing in anticipation. If Bill came, it would pretty much be the same as if he hadn't, only better….

"Oh, please Bill?" Mrs. Weasley asked anxiously, not picking up on the joke.

"Yes. Pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaasssseeeee?" The twins asked, making ridiculous faces at their older brother. Harry burst out laughing. Ron was already nearly rolling on the floor. 

Percy watched the whole display in disdain, and Harry thought he heard him mutter, "Really. How childish." This only made Harry laugh harder. 

Bill winked. "Oh, all right, I suppose I could _baby-sit_ for an afternoon."

The twins scowled. 

So it was settled. Bill would take Harry, Fred and George to Diagon Alley. They got lists from Ginny, Charlie, and Ron (despite what he'd said before) and set off.

~*~

"Oof! Fred, gerroff me!" George shouted as Fred shot out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron and landed on top of him. Harry snickered as Fred scrambled up, looking rather green. 

Fred was the last one to come through the fireplace and when he'd dusted himself off, they left through the back door of the dingy and darkened pub out into the alleyway behind it. Bill tapped the correct bricks and the portal opened revealing the famous Diagon Alley beyond. 

Dozens of shops selling everything from fashionable robes to Billywig stings to Mrs. Skower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover. Harry always loved coming to Diagon Alley. Every time he visited it, it overwhelmed him just as much as the first time he'd come with Hagrid before his first year. That seemed like such a long time ago….

Harry grinned as they walked along, watching witches and wizards haggle over this and that, children running around, ignoring their parents' impatient calls. No one would have believed that just a few days ago, chaos had taken place here….

Harry's eyes darkened as they passed a specific part of the alley that was blocked off to people. Many of the shop windows there were broken and there were black charred spots all over the floor. This had been where it had happened. Harry looked away and continued on.

"I've got to go to Gringott's first," he told Bill, who nodded.

"All right. How about this? You go to the bank and we'll wait for you outside Florean's place. We'll get you an ice cream. Anything particular?"

"Chocolate," Harry said immediately. Not many people knew, but he had a huge weakness for chocolate. Belgian in particular….

Bill nodded and they separated.

~*~

Harry loved those cart rides. It reminded him of flying. Zooming along, at break-neck speed. Hagrid, he knew, hated it, but he never understood why.

Harry walked over to Florean Fortescue's ice-cream parlor, grinning, his pockets now filled with enough wizard gold to last him through the year.

"Hello," he said sitting down in front of his triple fudge sundae. 

The four of them sat there, enjoying their ice creams and the sunny day. When they were done they set off shopping.

"Ok, where to first?" asked Bill.

"Fred and I need to go take care of something," George announced. Harry and Bill both stared. This could prove dangerous…

"What, exactly?" Bill asked carefully.

Fred and George grinned and exchanged glances. "Oh, nothing important," Fred said, "anyway, we've got to pick up something for Ron." He looked pointedly at Harry and he remembered their promise at the end of last year to by Ron some decent robes.

"Actually," George said thoughtfully, "Harry, I think you should come with us. We wanted to show you something."

Harry was utterly confused. What did the twins want?

Bill gave Fred and George a piercing glance, but then shrugged and said, "All right. You don't want me around. I'm off to the pub. Come and get me when you're done."

Fred grinned. "Ah, that's why you're our favorite brother!" 

Bill snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, whatever. Be careful Fred, you might turn into Percy if you suck up anymore."

Fred scowled and George burst out laughing, Bill left, heading for the Leaky Cauldron and Harry was left alone with possibly the two most dangerous people in Hogwarts….

"Right then," said George briskly, turning business-like. "Harry, we were hoping we'd get a chance to show you this."

Fred stopped scowling abruptly. "Yes," he continued for his brother, "and I think you're going to like it."

Harry, bewildered, suddenly found himself being pretty much _dragged_ down the busy alley, passing by shops so quickly he didn't even catch the signs. He didn't have any idea where they were going, but he was definitely curious to find out.

They finally stopped somewhere near Flourish and Blott's and Harry looked around. 

There was nothing exactly out of the ordinary here, (discounting, of course, the shop nearby with the floating purple toads in the window) and Harry looked to Fred and George in confusion. They, however, were looking at an empty store in front of them with pride and glee.

"Umm, Fred? George? What did you want to show me?"

George turned away from the shop and looked at Harry gratefully. "It's all because of you, Harry mate. We never could have done it without you. We never would have got it off the ground. That's why we were so desperate last year, about Bagman. We'd been counting on those Galleons, and then the rat…" George made a frustrated noise.

Harry looked up at the shop in front of him, understanding. "Do you mean…?" he spluttered, "This shop is, is--"

"Harry, you are looking at the future Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" exclaimed Fred. "Most of the Triwizard money went into the down-payment. Nothing's official yet, but, well, we're actually going to do it!" Fred was nearly bouncing with excitement.

Harry's face split into a huge grin. "That's great!" he said, nearly as excited as the twins were. "I didn't think you'd get started so soon!" Harry suddenly paused. "But, what about school?"

"Well, we'll be finishing school, of course," George replied as though Harry was daft.

"But, then, what about the shop?"

Fred gave an exasperated sigh as though Harry wasn't quite all there. "The shop's waiting. We'll start right after school's out and we'll rent a flat here in Diagon Alley. In the meanwhile, we're going to start selling at Hogwarts. Spread the famous Weasley name, scare a couple of first years out of their wits, drive the teachers insane…. You know how it is." Fred shrugged.

"Yeah," George continued. "We'll keep experimenting as well. I mean, we have an enormous list of ingenious pranks already, but you know how we are." He winked. "Fred and I, we want the world."

Harry smiled. "This is going to be incredible. Your mum's not going to be too happy about it though."

"Oh, I don't think Mum minds all that much any more," Fred said thoughtfully, "I think she's actually got quite used to the idea. We actually made her laugh the other day. What was it, George?"

"A pair of Slippery Slippers," he answered. "You should have been there. She stomped down the stairs barefoot, trying to look all angry and upset, but she couldn't stop laughing. She got out of bed and tried to put her slippers on, but, of course, being as Fred and I changed them in the middle of the night, she couldn't get them on. They kept slipping away from her feet. And then when she finally caught them and jammed them on, she stood up and, well, _that_ was a mistake…."

Fred was shaking with silent laughter and George grinned. "We thought she was going to kill us. It really came as quite a surprise when, instead, she swore she'd get us back for it…. Wonder what she's going to do…."

Harry had been laughing, but he sobered up fairly quickly now. "You know," he pointed out, "you had to have got it from somewhere. I have a feeling your mother could be very tricky if she wanted to." Fred suddenly stopped quickly and looked at George. Harry though he saw a flicker of worry cross his face.

"You know, George, he's right. We had to get it from someone, and I _know_ it wasn't dad…."

"Hmmm," George murmured with a hint of amusement on his face. "Well, we'll have to be prepared, that's all. Barricade the door and all that."

They stood silent for a few more minutes, looking up at the empty shop. Then Fred spoke quietly.

"Harry," he said, "there was something else we wanted to ask you about." Fred shuffled his feet nervously. "None of this could have happened if you hadn't given us your winnings. So, we decided that--"

"We want to make you a partner," George finished.

Harry stood flabbergasted. The twins were offering him a partnership in the shop? Him? Partner?

He must have looked exceptionally hilarious because the twins suddenly burst out laughing. Harry's grin nearly split his face in two. "You want to make me a partner?! Why?!"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Come on, Harry, we just told you. We couldn't have done it without your help. Anyway," he added as an afterthought, "you've got a good sense of humor and we could use you as our test subject!"

Harry shook his head, but then became serious. "I really can't thank you enough," he said, "but I can't accept."

George gaped at him. "What?" he spluttered, "You're turning this down? Are you nuts? We're gonna be big, Harry. We wanted you to be part of it."

Harry looked at both of them levelly. "Have you offered Ron a partnership?" he asked quietly.

The look on both the twins' faces confirmed that they hadn't.

"Look, I don't think you've been fair. If anyone deserves anything it's Ron. You might think of him once in a while. No one ever seems to notice that he's always there for everyone. I'm not. He's always been a good friend. I could have done loads better. And I wouldn't even have that money if it wasn't for Ron's support. He deserves the credit every bit as much as I do."

Fred and George looked uneasily at the ground and Harry sighed.

"I'm not asking you to offer him a partnership. I'm just not going to accept it and have another thing that I think Ron should have more than me. But," he continued, on a brighter note, "I would like to be a sponsor, if that's okay with you."

At these words the twin's faces split into huge grins. "You're joking!" Fred exclaimed.

Harry chuckled. "No, I'm not. Like I said before, I think we're all going to need a lot of laughs before this is through. And I think you two are going to be the ones to supply them."

"Harry," said George, beside himself with glee, "We don't know how to thank you. I mean, wow."

"Very well put," Harry laughed.

"No, really. Just tell us. Anything, honestly." George continued, stumbling over his words.

"Just never change, all right?" he said. Fred and George looked at him in confusion, but Harry didn't pay them any mind, so they shrugged and the three of them walked off towards Madame Malkin's.

~*~

"I don't know…." Harry said uneasily, but grinning nonetheless.

"Awww, come on. Ickle Ronniekins would love these!" Fred and George exclaimed in unison.

"I think they'd look great, but, maroon? Ron hates maroon. You know that." Harry shook his head and went back to rifling through the row of dress robes in front of him. He'd always been shocked at how many possibilities there seemed to be for men's dress robes. Honestly, it's not like anyone really cared….

"How about this one?" he asked pulling out a deep brown robe with buttons down the front and folded cuffs.

Fred scrunched up his nose. "Ugh, he'd look like the Fat Friar. Well, except for the fat part..."

"Actually, if anyone saw him eating at the ball, it would be very hard to tell the difference," George chuckled.

"Yeah, I suppose…." Why was this so hard?! They continued on for about ten minutes. Harry was just going through some of the robes in the back when a glint of blue caught at the corner of his eye. He pushed a bunch of robes aside and pulled out the robe.

It was perfect, Harry decided at once. The robe was a deep midnight blue, velvet, with a turtleneck. The sleeves were wide, like the school robes, and in the middle of the turtleneck there was a small circle of dark gold.

"Hey Fred! George!" he called them over. They came curiously but rushed forward when they saw what he was holding.

"It's perfect," declared George, admiring the material.

"Absolutely spiffing," agreed Fred, eyeing the gold button, probably trying to figure if it was real or not.

Madame Malkin noticed that they had found a robe.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "that's one of my favorites. Worked on it for hours!" She beamed at them. "It's splendid, isn't it?"

Harry nodded. "Why was it here in the back, then."

Madame Malkin looked taken aback. "Here? I was sure it was in the window, to tell you the truth. It was this morning. It must be that blasted husband of mine. He always thinks he knows better. He didn't like that robe, blue isn't his color, you see, so he probably moved it. He's done this sort of thing before, you know. Honestly, sometimes I just don't know what--" she could have gone on for hours and hours but Harry interrupted.

"Um, Madame Malkin?" 

"What? Oh, I'm sorry, got a bit carried away." She blushed and then took the robe from Harry. "This way please." She led them to the front of the shop and her desk. "Now," she began briskly, putting on a pair of reading glasses. "Are there any specific measurements or changes that you'd like made on the robe?"

Harry's eyes widened. What an idiot. He hadn't thought of that.

Fred must have noticed the look on Harry's face. "Don't worry," he said, "we've taken care of it." He handed a small folded piece of parchment to the witch.

"When it's done, please have it delivered to The Burrow in Ottery St. Catchpole. It's for a Mr. Ron Weasley." George winked Madame Malkin, who blushed profusely. He continued, "Also, if you wouldn't mind putting in this note." He handed her another piece of parchment.

"Oh, of course," she agreed. "My, three handsome young men such as yourselves. How could I refuse?" Fred and George grinned and Harry blushed.

~*~

By the time the three of them met up with Bill in the Leaky Cauldron, Harry was nearly spent. He didn't know where Fred and George came up with their limitless amounts of energy, but they didn't seem even the least bit tired. 

Bill had spent the day at the pub and picking up a few things he needed that he couldn't get in Egypt. When Harry Fred and George came in, they found him waiting for them at a table in the far corner of the room. 

"Look at this!" he exclaimed in excitement as they sat down with him, their shopping bags surrounding them. Harry looked at Bill curiously as he pulled something out of one of his bags. It was a small polished mahogany box with silver clasps. It was quite unremarkable.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Bill didn't answer; instead, he handed the box to Harry and bid him open it himself.

When Harry had sprung open the lid, he gasped.

"Wow! It's a Snitch!" But it was the strangest snitch Harry had ever seen. It had small dials on one side and the wings were a bit shorter than other snitches he'd seen before.

Bill grinned. "You know how we can never play Quidditch back home because the snitch might escape? Well, the Nimbus Broom Company came out with a new prototype. You can fix the Snitch so it only stays in a designated area. That's what those little dials are for."

Fred looked thrilled. "That's brilliant!" he shouted, causing half of the customers in the pub to stare at him. Fred didn't seem care.

"Yes, but wait 'till you see this," Bill said mysteriously. He reached down and pulled out another box. A much larger one. And it seemed to be moving…

George made a move as though to open the box, but Bill stopped him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned him. George withdrew his hand.

"Why?"

Bill sat back, looking very pleased with himself. "The Nimbus Company didn't only come out with a new snitch prototype…."

George still looked confused but Fred was ecstatic. "You're kidding! Bludgers?!"

Bill nodded, smiling. "Yup. You can program these as well. They're smaller and they're not made of metal, since they're for home use and there's no guarantee that there'll be a mediwizard somewhere nearby."

"So what are they made of?" George asked, practically bouncing in excitement.

Bill shrugged. "It's some kind of charmed rubber. They still fly fast enough to knock you off your broom, they're just not hard enough to break anything."

Harry was fascinated. They could all have a real Quidditch match tonight if they wanted! Harry could think of nothing more he'd rather do than play a good game of Quidditch after the past few days. That's what they all needed.

Bill put the boxes away. "So, what kind of trouble did the three of you get into today?"

"Eh, not very much. Actually we got Ron a new pair of dress robes. Heaven knows he needed them. Poor bloke. Must have been awful having to show up last year wearing that moldy, disgusting thing Mum called a robe," George said, making a face.

Bill looked at him incredulously. "You got Ron robes? Since when did you two take to caring about the state of Ron's robes?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Bill, did you _see_ his robes last year? It was a disgrace to the Weasley name! Honestly, I don't know _how_ Ron plans on ever getting a date anywhere! Do you really want that? We've always been known for our-- er-- _Weasley Charm_. Don't you think Ron should continue the legacy?" In the course of his rather elaborate explanation, Fred had taken Bill by the shoulders and he now shook him a bit over-zealously. Bill quirked an eyebrow at his brother, not believing a word he said, but obviously having enough sense not to pursue the argument any further.

"Fine, ok! I don't want to know." Bill held up his hands in defeat and Harry shook his head, smiling.

George grinned at his twin. "Well? Are we going to stand around here all day? Let's go!" 

~*~

Dinner was a splendid affair. Mrs. Weasley had prepared everyone's favorite foods in honor of Ginny's return to health. It was better than any Hogwarts feast Harry had ever had. All nine Weasleys, Hermione and him sat around a huge table in the backyard of the Burrow, eating, drinking and all in all being very merry.

By the end, Harry felt like he was about to burst and everyone else looked the same.

"That was a wonderful dinner, Mother," Percy said pompously.

"Yeah, jolly good grub, Mum," sighed George contentedly leaning back in his chair.

Mrs. Weasley looked very pleased with herself. "Well, it was nothing, you know. Seems the only thing I can do nowadays is feed you properly. You're all growing up so fast." She seemed to get a bit teary-eyed as she gazed around the table approvingly.

Ginny suddenly stood up, holding her glass. She cleared her throat. "I'd like to make a toast," she exclaimed, smiling at everyone. The table fell silent as all eyes turned to Ginny. She blushed a bit but continued.

"I'm lucky to be here today," she said, her voice soft. "I know that and I'm grateful. I know that times are going to be harder from now on, but I also know that as long as I have my family and my friends, everything else is a breeze. So," Ginny took a deep breath, "To family," she raised her glass towards her mother, father and all her brothers. Mrs. Weasley was near tears by now. "To friends, old and new," Ginny smiled at Harry and he felt his insides squirm as he blushed, "And to everything that comes our way, because we can take it together." She finished her drink, as did everyone else. Ginny sat down looking rather pleased with herself and Mrs. Weasley got up to bring dessert. 

"That was great," Harry said quietly. He was sitting across from Ginny, so if he spoke softly, only she heard him. Besides, Ron was now deep in conversation with Hermione, so he wouldn't have heard Harry if he'd been shouting.

Ginny blushed slightly. "Thanks," she said, "I didn't even plan on making one, but it seemed right."

Harry nodded. "It was perfect." He reached over for the bowl of pudding Mrs. Weasley had just put on the table and spooned a generous amount onto his plate, ignoring the fact that he was already near bursting point. Ginny quirked an eyebrow as she watched him.

"What? Harry asked, noticing her expression. Ginny shook her head.

"Nothing." She sat back and looked at Harry appraisingly.

"What?!" he asked again, this time a bit annoyed.

"Well, you got quite tall over the summer, you know. Not nearly as tall as Ron, but compared to last year…." Ginny trailed off. 

"Is that a bad thing?" Harry asked her, swallowing a mouthful of pudding and grinning

Ginny shook her head. "Not at all," she said matter-of-factly, "Actually, it quite suits you." Ginny looked shyly at Harry and he blushed. However, Ginny began laughing a second later. Harry, confused, looked around wildly to see what was so funny and nearly died when he found he'd stuck his elbow in the pudding bowl! He made a noise halfway between a strangled gasp and a screech and quickly wiped himself off with a napkin, blushing furiously. He glanced across at Ginny who was nearly crying with mirth and he couldn't help but smile bashfully, though he did quickly look around to make sure no one else had seen that.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said when she'd calmed down a bit, "I shouldn't laugh, but that was hilarious." 

"Charlie, Ron!" Came Mrs. Weasley's voice from the other side of the table, "It's your turn to wash the dishes. Fred and George, you clear up, please." There were various grumbles across the table but the twins got up and started taking all the plates into the kitchen while Charlie and Ron followed them close behind.

Ginny turned to Harry. "Wonderful!" she exclaimed, "I don't have kitchen duty." She looked very pleased with herself.

"Don't see why they'd make you wash dishes. It's your party, after all." Harry pointed out.

"True. Eh!" Ginny stood up and grinned. "Want to go for a walk?"

Harry stared. A walk? Just him and Ginny? Harry swallowed. "Sure," he replied.

"Great. Mum!" she called.

"Yes dear?" 

"Harry and I are going for a walk. We'll be close by if you need us."

There was suddenly an uncanny silence as everyone gaped at the two of them. Harry stared at the ground uneasily, but a moment later everything resumed as normal.

"Very well," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling.

~*~

The night was crisp and a half moon partly lit the path as Harry and Ginny walked together. There was a small stream a way off and it was in that direction they were going.

"So, let me get this straight," Harry was saying, smiling. "You managed to sneak into Snape's office, knick your written exam off his desk and fix all the answers before he graded it?! And he didn't catch you?!" Harry was incredulous.

Ginny giggled. "Yes! You should have seen how disappointed he was when he told me that I'd got full marks! It was priceless! Of course, I was nearly caught. You have no idea how well he guards his office! Luckily, though, I get top marks in Charms. Flitwick is a dear, isn't he?" Harry could only stare and shake his head.

"All right, how about this? When we were in first year, Hermione and I got caught sneaking a dragon up to the Northern Tower. We got detention in the Forbidden Forest. What a nightmare!"

"A dragon?" said Ginny in shock, "Wherever did you get a dragon?"

"Well," Harry said in amusement, "Hagrid had always wanted one and then he got an egg from some chap in a pub. What a nightmare…" Harry sighed. "He called him Norbert, for heaven's sake. Norbert! And he had a teddy bear for him and everything! But the thing was getting huge, and Hagrid couldn't hide it anymore, so we wrote Charlie and asked him to help us. You can probably figure out what happened from there…"

Ginny was laughing so hard that she had to stop and catch her breath. When she calmed down she said, "Why didn't Ron ever tell me about this?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. He didn't like Norbert very much. See, Norbert bit him once pretty badly. He told Madame Pomfrey it was a dog, but…. Anyway, I think he kept it secret because if your Mum ever found out, she'd have a fit."

"Yes, she would," Ginny mused, "still, he could have told me. Can't believe he got bitten though, that must have been awful."

"Yeah," Harry said, "but you know? The funniest thing that ever happened to Ron must have been in second year. Malfoy was being the usual pain, but then he insulted Hermione and, well, you know your brother."

Ginny giggled and nodded her head.

"Well, he tried to curse Malfoy, but his wand was broken so it backfired."

"No!" Ginny gasped.

"Yes!" Harry was laughing. "You should have been there. He was burping slugs for hours afterwards!"

Ginny burst out laughing and she grabbed Harry's shoulder to steady herself. Harry blushed, but Ginny didn't seem to notice anything. "Poor Ron!" she exclaimed gasping for breath.

They continued walking in silence afterwards and Harry couldn't help but think how nice it was talking to Ginny. She was nothing like he'd expected her to be. He'd always thought she was shy and quiet, but she was neither. She was witty and funny and did some of the most outrageous things… She was quick to laugh and seemed so vibrant and full of life that Harry marveled at how he could have ever not noticed her before. When they reached the stream they walked along it a little way until they reached a place where it was shallow and you could cross by jumping across a couple of stones. Harry and Ginny made their way to the other side and then sat down on the grassy bank.

"So," Ginny began, "I heard you stayed with Sirius over the summer."

Harry looked up abruptly. He still wasn't used to the fact that the entire Weasley family knew about his godfather, but it was nice, not having to hide it from them. "Yeah," he said at last.

Ginny turned to face Harry. "What's he like?" she asked him, "I mean, really like?"

Harry grinned and leaned back on the grass, propping himself up by his elbows. "Sirius? Well, he's nothing like I ever thought he'd be. When I first met him, well, he scared the living daylights out of me. Of course, at the time, I thought he was going to kill me so…" Harry trailed off. "But, the truth is, since then, he's changed a lot. He looked awful when I saw him that first time, but now, well, he's been staying with Professor Lupin, remember him? And they were best friends along with my Dad at school. He's incredible." Harry sighed. "He and my Dad used to be worse than Fred and George, or so I've heard."

"That's impossible!" Ginny exclaimed.

Harry shook his head and smiled. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? Well, I heard it from McGonagall herself. Potter and Black…." He was silent for a moment, looking out over the stream. "Sirius hasn't changed all that much, at least that's what Lupin told me. Of course, Sirius hasn't had it easy." Harry glared at nothing in particular. "He doesn't deserve what he's been through, and everything would have been different if he hadn't- well, if things hadn't turned out like they did. I wouldn't have had to live with the Dursleys. He wouldn't have gone to Azkaban. I just wish I could stay with him all the time, you know? Always have him there if I needed him…." 

Ginny sighed and Harry looked up to find her gazing at the sky. After a moment she did the most surprising thing. She took Harry's hand and pointed his finger up at one of the stars.

"Look," she said quietly and let go of his hand. Harry gazed at the star for a moment. He knew he should know it, they'd learned all of the stars in astronomy. Then he recognized the constellation Canus Major. 

He dropped his hand. "Sirius, the Dog Star," he whispered.

Ginny nodded. "That's right," she said. "He's always watching you. No matter what happens. You don't have to worry."

Harry leaned back again and sighed. He was quiet for a moment before he said, "Thanks Ginny."

Ginny smiled. "Anytime."

~*~

They were walking back towards the Burrow a while later. Everything was silent and peaceful. Harry felt remarkably content, especially after everything that had happened lately. Just taking it easy…. Often, it was what he wanted to do most and, ironically, it was usually what he never got. A breeze blew past him and Ginny, ruffling his hair. Ginny shuddered with chill.

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed, noticing for the first time that Ginny wasn't wearing a jumper. She was wearing a light yellow summer dress and the material was rather thin. Harry couldn't help but notice how pretty she looked in it…. He quickly shook his head and took off his own jumper, handing it to Ginny.

"Here," he said, "You must be freezing."

Ginny blushed but took the jumper and pulled it over her head. "Thanks," she said gratefully, "Much better." Ginny grinned.

Harry looked up suddenly as he heard footsteps and saw Ron running towards them. 

"Hey!" he shouted as he neared. "The others just sent me to call you two." He was looking at Harry and Ginny strangely. He seemed to be amused and yet, Harry thought he saw the smallest trace of hostility in Ron's eyes, especially when he recognized Harry's jumper on Ginny. But a moment later Ron blinked and it was gone. 

"How come?" Ginny asked.

"Well, Bill got these incredible Quidditch balls! We were just going to play a game. Want to come?" Ron seemed ecstatic.

"Yeah!" Harry replied enthusiastically.

"Wonderful!" Ginny jumped up excitedly. Harry looked at her in surprise.

"Oh?" he asked inquisitively, "Since when do you play Quidditch?"

Ginny laughed. "Since I beat my brothers every game since we were kids!" Harry laughed and Ron scowled.

"She's lying. She doesn't beat us all the time!" Ron's comment only made Harry laugh harder.

The rest of the evening was spent in a happy blur for Harry. They played an incredible game of Quidditch in which everyone participated except Hermione who much preferred to stay on the ground. Charlie, Fred, Bill and Percy played against Harry, Ron, Ginny and George. Harry's team won and he was pleasantly surprised when Ginny turned out to be an incredible chaser. Harry never would have thought….

They'd trudged back to the Burrow utterly exhausted but happy and everyone had said their goodnights and gone up to bed.

Harry fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

As though a warning, a reminder that all was not right in the world, that he couldn't hide from the truth forever as he had tonight, Harry dreamed. It was unclear, but made Harry restless all the same. Whispers, whispers from all around him… calling him…. They came and he felt something stirring inside of him, something familiar. Harry tossed and turned in his sleep, unable to wake up, yet unable to escape the incessant calling, the pulling, of the whispers….

"One of Power…."

AN: HUGE thanks to Ami and now Joyce as well, my betas, I really should thank you more often. You deserve tons of credit! I know I'm a pain, but thank you so much for ignoring it (most of the time…)

Thank you to Imogen as well for letting me steal her socks. It's all her brilliant idea, of course, and I don't know where we'd all be without a sock stealing Ginny…

All that's left for me to say is please! Please, review!

****


	9. Rancor and Revelations

**Chapter 8:**

****

"Ginny! Have you seen my wand?"

"Yes! It's on the kitchen table!"

"Mum! Where are the extra quills?"

"In the cabinet in the living room, dear!"

"Hey Ron! Did Bill leave you the Quidditch balls?"

"Yeah! He said he got them for us anyway!"

"Mother! Can you please tell everyone to be quiet?! I have to finish this paper on customizing book sizes and fonts! It's very important!"

"Mum! Can you please tell Percy to stop being a bigheaded prat?!"

Yes, it was another average morning at the Burrow and everyone was preparing to leave for King's Cross Station. The train was scheduled to leave in another two hours and though everyone had packed the day before, there suddenly seemed to be a remarkable number of things that still needed to be done. No one was ready, and the Burrow was practically upside down. 

Harry found that he was actually reluctant to begin school this year. All in all, he'd had a wonderful summer, not including, of course, certain, er, _events_. It had got off to a rocky start with the Dursleys and the attack in Diagon Alley had been horrible but besides that…The only summer that even remotely neared this one was the summer before Harry's first year when he'd found out that he was a wizard.

Harry finished packing all of his last minute things and closed his trunk. He gave Ron's room one last wistful glance before dragging his trunk downstairs. He left it next to the front door and then sat down at the kitchen table for breakfast. He seemed to be the first one besides Ginny, who had finished first.

"G'morning," he exclaimed glumly, resting his chin in his hand.

Ginny grinned. "Someone's cheerful this morning. So upset to go back to school?"

Harry sighed. "It's not that I'm upset to go back to Hogwarts, it's just," Harry paused, looking for words, "All in all, I had a better summer than I've had in, well, forever, and now it's ending. Back to school and people gawping at me. It'll probably be even worse this year after what happened…" Harry trailed off, the memory of Cedric's death and the circumstances by which it came to pass fresh in his memory. 

Ginny looked at Harry in understanding. "Yes," she said, "it is going to be harder than usual." She paused and took a deep breath, as though trying to find courage for what she was going to say next. "Voldemort's back. Everything is changing. Believe me, Diagon Alley wasn't the only attack this summer. It may have been the worst but it wasn't the only one."

Harry had started when Ginny said Voldemort's name. Having been brought up in a wizarding family, Ginny understood the horrors that the world had gone through fifteen years ago, understood the fear that remained. But now Ginny's face was set in grim determination. Harry marveled again at the strong-willed, redheaded girl that was Ginny Weasley. She'd managed to surprise him every day since she'd returned from the hospital and didn't look as though she was going to stop any time soon.

"He's got a lot to answer for, hasn't he?" Harry said.

"You and I both know it, Harry. We know it better than most." She gazed at him penetratingly, her eyes burning into his. Harry knew she was right. She'd had her fair share of nightmares because of Voldemort. Slowly, he nodded, making a promise to himself. He'd try as hard as he could to make those nightmares go away. He also wouldn't let anything happen to her ever again.

Ginny smiled. "Eat your breakfast and stop worrying about everything," she said unexpectedly. "You've got me, Ron and Hermione. We'll stick with you no matter what, so there's no point in going hungry." She passed him a plate stacked with pancakes and busied herself with her porridge.

There was no doubt about it. Ginny Weasley certainly was something.

~*~

Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione rode to King's Cross Station squished into two Muggle taxis (which Mrs. Weasley had ordered from the telephone in town) along with all of their trunks and animals. It was not a pleasant ride. Harry sat scrunched in between Ron and Ginny, Hermione sitting in the front. Crookshanks had somehow managed to escape the confines of his cage and had snuggled into his lap, digging his claws into his legs every time they made a turn. Pigwidgeon was tooting and twittering about happily in his cage, sending little fluffy bird feathers everywhere and Hedwig kept shooting him disapproving looks and hooting unhappily. If Ginny had had an animal as well, the Muggle taxi driver would have gone insane. As it was, Harry wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't mad. The man sped along at breakneck speed, making sharp turns without slowing down in the least. Harry muttered several embarrassed "sorrys," as he continued landing on Ginny in unpleasant situations.

All in all, the four were relieved beyond belief when the car parked in front of the entrance to King's Cross. Mrs. Weasley and the twins hadn't fared much better, it seemed. Fred and George had enjoyed themselves immensely, but Mrs. Weasley looked rather green.

Harry gave Ginny a hand with her trunk, as she was till rather weak; and they passed through the barrier in pairs.

"Wonderful," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed in apparent satisfaction. "There are still ten minutes until the train leaves. Go put your trunks away and then come back to say good bye."

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny found an empty compartment towards the back of the train and left their luggage there. When they returned to the platform, they found a very teary-eyed Mrs. Weasley hugging Fred and George.

"Mum! Geroff us!" they cried in unison.

"Someone might be watching," Fred exclaimed indignantly, but gave his mother a quick peck on the cheek all the same. George followed suit.

"Now, you behave yourselves," Mrs. Weasley said severely. "It's your last year at Hogwarts. You have your N.E.W.T's this year. For heaven's sake, try your best."

Fred and George grumbled their consent then traipsed off to where Lee Jordan was waiting for them.

Mrs. Weasley turned to the four of them, sniffling. She hugged Hermione good bye and kissed Ron, wiping off a smudge of dirt on his cheek. Harry couldn't help but snicker at his friend. Then she turned to Ginny.

"Oh, my sweet-heart," she said softly, "come here." She gave Ginny a big hug, as though afraid to let her go. 

"I'll miss you Mum," Ginny said, hugging her mother back just as tightly.

"Take care of yourself, love. Don't forget to give Madame Pomfrey that note."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mum." Ginny had note explaining her condition to the school nurse. Upon receiving said note, she'd exclaimed in irritation that she didn't think she needed it and had tried repeatedly to burn, tear, hide or damage it in any way she could.  Nothing helped, though. Mrs. Weasley had charmed it.

Last, Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry. He blushed a bit, but as usual was rather pleased that she did. Mrs. Weasley always treated him like one of her own, and he was always grateful. 

"Take care of my little girl, Harry," she whispered quietly in his ear, so that only he heard her. "Please, promise me you won't let anything happen to her."

Harry pulled away. "I promise," he said quietly and nodded. He didn't tell her that he'd already promised himself the same thing.

They went back to their compartment, hanging out the window, waving as the train began to move away. Soon, Mrs. Weasley was only a dot in the distance and then, she was gone.

Harry sat back with a sigh. "Well, back to school, I guess." He grinned. "I suppose things could be worse."

"Oh?" Ron asked glumly, clearly as upset about returning to school as Harry was.

"Yeah. Remember the end of last year? On the train?"

A grin spread slowly across Ron's face as he remembered. "Ah, yes," he said in satisfaction, sitting back, a dreamy look on his face. "Where is Malfoy, anyway?"

Ginny looked confused. "Malfoy?" she asked. "Draco Malfoy? Why would you care about him?"

Hermione couldn't help smiling. "Well, we're just wondering if he's recovered yet."

Harry and Ron exploded in gales of laughter. Ginny was still confused.

"What do you mean?"

Ron gasped for breath. "He was being a bloody git as usual-"

"Ron!" Hermione cried, more out of habit than anything else. They'd all grown quite used to Ron's swearing by now… Ron ignored her and continued. "But he messed with us at the wrong time. We cursed him, Crabbe, and Goyle, and it just so happened that Fred and George were passing by and they gave us a hand."

Ginny covered her mouth with her hand, trying unsuccessfully to stifle her giggles. 

"What happened?" she asked in awe.

"Well," Harry replied, "let's just say quite a few muggles thought something escaped from the zoo that day… Must have been a lot of fun to have muggles laughing at him. I'm sure he quite enjoyed it…" He smiled belatedly.

Ron was ecstatic. "He had mushrooms on his face, Ginny! _Mushrooms!_"

Ginny was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down her face. But her laughter abruptly turned into a violent coughing fit and Ginny sat, clutching at her chest, gasping for breath. 

Harry scooted closer to her in alarm and held her by the shoulders, rubbing his left hand over her back, soothing her until it passed.

"Sorry," Ginny whispered shakily after catching her breath. 

"Shhh, it's all right," Hermione soothed. 

Harry looked over Ginny's head at Ron. He'd turned very pale and looked worriedly back. Harry nodded his head towards the door. Ron took the hint.

"I'll go get you a glass of water," he said, standing up abruptly.

"No, don't bother. I'm fine, really."

"No, Ginny, you're not," Ron replied stubbornly. "Hermione, come with me?" 

Hermione nodded and they left, leaving Harry and Ginny alone.

They sat in silence, Harry still rubbing her back gently. Suddenly, Ginny turned around and buried her face in his shoulder, clutching at his robes.

"Harry, I can't take this anymore!" she cried softly, her voice muffled. "Every time I think it's passed, the whole thing blows up again. If I get too worked up, I go into awful coughing fits and I—"

"Wait," Harry said abruptly, sitting up. "You mean to say you've been having a lot of them?"

Ginny looked sheepishly at the floor. "Yes," she said in small voice, "when you weren't around. If you were, I ran up to my room. I didn't want everyone to see how weak I really still am. You don't know, Harry," she said vehemently, "you don't know what it's like living with six older brothers, always trying to protect you, but only driving you insane instead!" Ginny coughed again, leaning forward, waiting till it passed.

Harry sat, his face wrought with lines of worry. "Ginny, why didn't you tell me about this?" he asked softly.

Ginny looked away out the window, sighing. "Only Mum and Dad know. In Diagon Alley, while- while I was being cursed, I must have been hit with something else and it- well, it punctured one of my lungs." 

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. 

"They mended it at St. Mungo's, of course, but it was pretty bad. I didn't want people to treat me as more of a baby than they already were." She looked up at Harry desperately, her eyes shining. "I'm sorry, I should have told you. I—I'm sorry." 

Harry shook his head. "Don't be. It's ok. I understand. But, Ginny, shouldn't you be better by now?"

Ginny shrugged. "I suppose. The past two days have been almost completely clear, but last night, I woke up at about three in the morning, coughing so badly I had to wake up Mum." Ginny looked worried. "Harry, I don't know what's happening to me." She gripped his hand tightly. "Mum doesn't want to show it, but she's more worried than she's letting on. I'm more worried than everyone thinks. I know it's probably nothing. The doctors didn't say how long it would be before I was completely recovered after all…" Ginny trailed off.

Her hand felt warm in his and he held it tighter, trying to comfort her. "Ginny, I think your right. It probably is nothing." He hoped that was true. "But just in case, go to Madam Pomfrey tomorrow and have her check you out. Believe me, I'm sure she'll be thrilled to have a patient…" Harry smiled.

Ginny hesitated, clearly not happy with the idea. "All right, but I'll only go on one condition." 

Harry nodded. "Sounds fair."

Ginny took a deep breath. "Don't tell anyone about this. My coughing fits, the curse, the hospital wing. Nothing."

Harry opened his mouth to protest. Ron was his best friend after all and Ginny's brother, but Ginny's eyes looked up at him pleadingly and he found himself agreeing to her terms instead.

"Thanks, Harry," she said in relief, hugging him tightly. Harry felt his stomach wriggle and knew he was blushing, but he controlled himself and hugged her back. She needed a friend now.

He heard someone clear his throat in back of him and turned to find Ron in the doorway, looking anywhere but at the two of them. Harry blushed even harder and Ginny turned scarlet. They both moved away from each other abruptly and Ron and Hermione entered, Ron handing the glass of water to Ginny as he sat down.

"There you go," he said. "Are you ok?"

Ginny looked towards Harry.

"Yeah," he replied, "she's fine. Just swallowed something the wrong way…" Ginny smiled gratefully and drank her water.

They spent the next two hours playing exploding snap and wizard's chess. Ginny beat Ron in ten minutes and Harry had laughed himself silly.

He was pleased to see, though, that Ginny didn't cough even once that whole time, even though she seemed a bit pale to him, but that might have been his imagination.

Fred and George had stopped by for a bit with Lee, but they hadn't stayed long. They'd said something about going off to torture the girls instead.

The old lady with the cart appeared at noon and Harry treated everyone to Cauldron Cakes, Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and Pumpkin Pasties. They sat exchanging wizard cards and betting who could catch a Bertie Bott's Bean in their mouth from the opposite side of the coach. Most of the beans ended up flying out the window…

All in all it was a pleasant ride and Harry found himself looking forward to going back after all.

The sky outside the window turned a light purple as the sun set behind the clouds off in the distance. Harry watched it sink slowly, marveling at how peaceful he felt. The compartment had long ago fallen silent. Hermione was curled up in the corner of her seat, breathing deeply. The book she'd been reading had slid to the cushion next to her, and Ron's head was in her lap. Ron was snoring so gently, Harry barely heard it over the creaking of the train.

Harry sighed contentedly. Ginny had fallen asleep first and her head had drooped onto his shoulder. She'd snuggled up quite close, in fact, and Harry took the opportunity to study her features. He'd noticed for the first time the faint circles she had under her eyes, but that was the only worrying thing he found. But he knew the train ride had exhausted her more than she'd admit. Weasleys were so stubborn… It was one of the things he liked most about them.

The train rocked rhythmically from side to side and the breeze from the open window above him played across his face. He found himself slowly drifting off and was all for a short nap when he heard the compartment door slide open.

"Well, well. What have we here?" came the familiar cold drawl from behind. 

Harry's jaw went rigid as he felt fury well up inside him. He was wide awake now.  Harry slowly turned around, not wanting to wake Ginny and trying to keep his emotions from showing on his face. "Get out of here, Malfoy," he said, his voice as cold as steel.

Malfoy, flanked, as usual, by his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, ignored him and continued his taunt. He stared pointedly at Ginny. "Girlfriend, Potter?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, his anger flaring. How dare Malfoy even look at Ginny?! "I said, Get. Out."

Malfoy shook his head. "Ooh, touchy, touchy Potter. What's the matter, bad summer? I heard what happened in Diagon Alley… What a shame." He leaned against the doorway, hands in his pockets, clicking his tongue. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled.

Harry's face contorted in anger. Malfoy didn't know haw lucky he was. As much as Harry wanted to kill him right now, he didn't dare wake Ginny. She needed to sleep, so he stayed where he was.  

"You're disgusting," Harry replied quietly. "Get out of my sight."

Malfoy just laughed, and Harry nearly jumped up to strangle him.

"What are you going to do, Potter? Have me thrown off the train? I don't think so." He stepped closer to where Harry and Ginny sat. Harry felt his hair stand on end.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, brilliant green against piercing blue, then Malfoy reached out a finger and drew it gently down Ginny's cheek. Ginny frowned in her sleep and shifted uncomfortably. Harry's heart beat at an abnormal pace, his breathing grew shallow.

"You know," Malfoy whispered, smiling evilly, "she's actually rather pretty, in a disgusting, Weasley, Mudblood loving way." 

Fire flamed up from somewhere deep inside Harry, burning uncontrollably with his anger. His shoulders shook with it as he glared at Malfoy, hating him with every fiber of his being. The only rational thought in his head at that moment was that Malfoy was within ten meters of Ginny and that was unacceptable! The fire grew and grew, roaring in Harry's ears. There was no end to it, the smug look on Malfoy's face fueling it even more.

_CRACK!_

The glass pane in the compartment door shattered, pieces of glass falling to the floor. Malfoy turned around abruptly, the smile disappearing. He took in the shards on the floor and the jagged edges left above the door. When he turned to Harry again, he suddenly looked unsure of himself and backed away a bit.

"I said, leave."  

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, with a slight pink tinge to his cheeks, but then his sneer returned. "This isn't over," he growled and barged out of the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle following right behind. 

Harry took a deep breath and then another, calming his anger. He'd done it again. Made something explode, just like in the hospital. It wasn't so odd. He'd made things blow up out of anger before. But this time, he'd known it was coming. He had known he was going to do it. He never had before. 

Harry looked down at Ginny. She was still sleeping peacefully, but the peace Harry had felt before had been shattered. Harry smoothed his thumb over Ginny's cheek, where Malfoy had touched her, as though to wipe away any trace of him. He shuddered at the memory of what had just happened.

Ginny gave a small cough in her sleep but didn't wake up. She snuggled closer, shivering. Harry wondered at that since the compartment was actually quite warm. He held his hand to her forehead and sighed. She had a fever. It wasn't a bad one but it was a fever all the same. He carefully reached for his wand and then muttered a heating spell, pointing it at Ginny. He didn't make it too warm. He knew from experience that that could make matters worse.  Harry then pointed his wand at the shards of glass on the floor. 

"_Reparo_," he whispered. The window put itself magically back together and Harry magicked the door closed. He then settled back in his seat, his anger replaced by fear. Mrs. Weasley had asked him to watch over Ginny. How could he? He knew Malfoy would now start bothering her as well as Ron and Hermione, simply for being around him. He was afraid of the things Malfoy was capable of. Harry knew where he came from and where he was going. Malfoy was waiting for the day when he could be just like his father. A Death Eater, one of Voldemort's supporters. The thought made Harry sick to his stomach.

And then there was Ginny's illness. He'd be watching her like a hawk since what she'd told him and he'd drag her kicking and screaming to Madame Pomfrey if he had to. Harry would be taking no chances with this, not after the way he'd seen her coughing. He hoped it was really nothing, as Ginny had said it was. Of course, Ginny didn't seem so sure it was nothing herself…

The rest of the journey was mercifully uneventful, Ron and Hermione waking up some time before they reached Hogwarts, Ginny sleeping on. Ron and Harry talked Quidditch as they trundled along and Hermione, disgusted, returned to her book. Needless to say, Harry did not tell them about the incident with Malfoy.

As the train began to slow, Harry shook Ginny gently.

"Hey, Ginny, wake up, we're almost there," he muttered. Ginny stirred and then opened her eyes. She sat up groggily and yawned. 

"How long have I been sleeping?" she asked, looking around the compartment and out the window, taking in the black sky outside.

"Two hours," Harry answered, rubbing his shoulder, pinpricks shooting up and down his arm, which had fallen asleep quite a while ago.

"Two?!" Ginny exclaimed in surprise. "It didn't feel like any more than a few minutes…"

"Well, you must have been very tired then," Harry replied. Ginny just shot him a "look". He grinned and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"You're impossible," she stated simply before preparing her things.

It was a clear night outside, a cooling breeze ruffling everyone's hair as they climbed into the horseless carriages. The students were all much quieter and subdued than usual in light of recent events and Harry caught more than one worried glance around for signs of danger. He also caught more people staring at him than usual, some with fear, others with mistrust. Despite what Dumbledore had explained to everyone the year before there were still many students that refused to believe Voldemort had returned. Cornelius Fudge certainly hadn't helped matters claiming that Harry must have finally cracked and was probably mentally unstable. He wondered if anything had come out in the press about him over the summer.

The lights from the castle came into view, and soon they were walking through the front doors and into the Great Hall for the welcoming feast. The Hall was filled with floating candles and twinkling lights and the sky above was covered with stars. The four sat down at the Gryffindor and Ginny looked upwards, sighing.

"What is it?" Harry asked her quietly.

Ginny smiled. "I missed it, you know. The ceiling. It's one of my favorite things about school. I've always wondered what it would feel like if I were to float up there and touch it…" she trailed off, a dreamy look on her face. 

Harry found himself staring at Ginny as she gazed at the sky. Her eyes twinkled with reflections of the candles above and her cheeks were tinged rose. Her lips were curled up in a little half-smile and Harry suddenly found himself wondering what they would feel like on his own…With a jolt, Harry realized what he was doing and looked away quickly towards the staff table, not really seeing the people sitting there. A sudden call from Ron brought Harry to his senses.

"Harry!"

Harry jumped in his seat and turned to look at Ron. "What?" he asked in surprise.

Ron didn't seam to notice that he'd scared him. He leaned across the table towards him. "Notice anyone missing from the staff table?" he asked.

Harry looked towards the front of the hall, his eyes roaming over the familiar faces. Hagrid was gone, but Harry knew he must still be with Madame Maxime wherever Dumbledore had sent them to. The place for the DADA teacher was empty as well. How unexpected. But besides that everyone seemed to be… "Hold on," Harry said suddenly, "where's Snape?"

"Snape?" Ginny asked, looking over towards the teachers as well. Her eyes widened when she saw he was missing. Ron nodded. 

"Yeah," he replied, "Snape's gone. You think he's just missing the feast or not teaching this year?" Ron's face suddenly lit up. "Maybe he got sacked!"

Hermione snorted. "Oh, come on Ron. You thought the same thing in second year right before he surprised you from behind."

Ron jumped and turned around in his seat, suddenly afraid of what he might find. Snape wasn't there, to Ron's obvious relief. Harry laughed at his friend's discomfort, but only half-heartedly. He had a feeling he knew where Snape was and he wasn't very happy about it.

"Ron, do you remember what happened in the hospital at the end of last year with Snape?" he asked.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Of course, who would be able to forget that?"

Harry nodded and was about to continue when Ginny cut in. 

"What are you talking about? What about Snape?"

Harry looked at Ginny in surprise. He'd forgotten that she hadn't been present in the hospital wing when it happened. He felt a sudden wave of guilt. She must have been worried…. Harry sighed. 

"Look, we can't tell you everything here, barely anyone knows about it." Now Ginny looked even more confused.

"What are you talking about?" At that moment she was cut off as a hush fell over the crowd and McGonagall could be seen carrying a very dirty hat to the front of the staff table. A group of nervous first years stood in terrified silence, wondering what they were going to have to do.

"We'll talk later," Harry whispered to Ginny as McGonagall explained what the hat was for.

Then the hat began his song.

_"What you see is what you get,_

_But let me ask you this, my friends,_

_Is what you see what's really there,_

_Or perhaps a meanings to an end?___

_I'm just a hat, or is it so?_

_Perhaps I'm more than what you find,_

_I have no eyes, yet still I see,_

_The thoughts that run around your mind.___

_I'm just a hat, I have no ears,_

_But no, I'm more than cloth and thread,_

_I hear your secrets and your fears,_

_The things you think inside your head._

_I'm just a hat, I do not feel,_

_And yet, you'll find I'm rather vain,_

_I know the feelings in your soul,_

_I sense the sparks within your brain._

_So try me on, I'm just a hat,_

_Who'll tell you where you ought to be,_

_In Gryffindor for brave of heart,_

_In Hufflepuff for loyalty.___

_In Ravenclaw for will to learn,_

_In Slytherin for cunningness,_

_So like I said, I'm just a hat,_

_I'm nothing more and nothing less."_

The students erupted in wiled applause, Harry with them. He always enjoyed the Sorting, but wondered that the Sorting Hat always managed to come up with a new song year after year. 

The Sorting continued as usual, and at the end, Gryffindor had eight new students. It was much less than usual. There weren't nearly as many first years as there had been in years past. Harry didn't need to wonder why.

Dumbledore then stood up to speak. He held his arms out in greeting and smiled at everyone. "Welcome," he said warmly, "to another year. Before we partake of the wonderful feast to come, I have a few announcements to give out. First, a reminder to all students and a warning to the newcomers, the Forbidden Forest is just that: forbidden. Times are not what they used to be. I'm sure I don't need to tell you what creatures live in the forest. 

"Second, our caretaker, Mr. Argus Filch has come forward with an odd request. Any student to assist him this year in the capture of Peeves, our resident poltergeist, will receive a pass from all detentions that would otherwise have been given by him." Dumbledore's mustache twitched.

"Third, one week from today, a memorial will take place in honor of the memory of Cedric Diggory, a student who was taken last year from our midst." Dumbledore's smile had faded. "Any students interested in saying a few words should see their head of house."

Harry looked over at the Ravenclaw table at the mention of Cedric, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He hadn't seen Cho before and he didn't spot her at the table now either. He furrowed his brow. That was odd….

Dumbledore let the silence sink in for a few moments and then his smile returned. "I would like to finish with the words of the great Torgen Twiggs: 'Pray the dried ink won't itch a dragon's nose!'" With that he sat down, unaware that he sounded quite mad, as usual.

The food appeared and everyone dug in, but Harry wasn't as hungry as he'd been. He sighed.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked him, putting a small spoonful of mashed potatoes on her plate. 

Harry looked around him, at the vastness of the Great Hall and the splendor of Hogwarts, at the students busy with their meal and the teachers up front. Quietly, so Ron and Hermione wouldn't hear, he mumbled, "Cedric's never going to have this again."

Ginny stopped serving herself and turned towards him. "Harry, look at me."

Harry turned half-heartedly towards her.

Ginny's face was stern but kindness shone through her eyes. She spoke gently. "You know that's not your fault, Harry. You're smarter than that, I know you are. You can't save everyone and if you try, you're only going to hurt yourself and everyone who loves you." Ginny blushed slightly but reached her hand out and touched his cheek. Harry felt heat rush to his face but shuddered inside when he realized it was the same way Draco had touched her on the train. He shook the odd feeling off and smiled.

"And you wouldn't want that, right?"

Ginny's blush deepened and she turned quickly back to her food, but not before giving a small nod. Harry's heart skipped a beat.

The rest of dinner passed uneventfully besides for Dumbledore's parting words, telling them all that quidditch games would continue as usual despite the conditions and tryouts would be held in two weeks time. Harry cheered, thrilled, while Fred and George stood up on the table and started to do a jig, earning them their first detention of the year. They took it with a smile. Then Dumbledore flicked his wrist and the words to the school song formed in the air before him. Harry groaned along with many of the other students but sang along to the tune of one of the Weird Sisters' songs he'd heard over the summer.

Finally it was off to Gryffindor Tower. Harry was very grateful. 

He, Hermione, Ron and Ginny were joined by Fred and George on the way up. They wanted to talk to Harry about the team's prospects for the coming season but before they said a thing Professor McGonagall approached him.

"Potter?"

Harry's heart sank. He wondered what he'd already managed to do to get himself in trouble. He swallowed nervously. "Yes Professor?"

McGonagall smoothed out her robes in a very business-like way before replying. "The headmaster would like to see you in his office. Now."

Harry wondered what this was all about. Ron and Hermione shot him questioning looks and Ginny looked rather worried. He wished them all good-night and followed McGonagall up the stairs towards Dumbledore's office.

"Licorice Sticks!" McGonagall said when they reached the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. The statue came to life and jumped aside allowing them to pass. They alighted on the moving staircase, moving steadily upwards. When they reached the door McGonagall turned towards him. 

"Goodnight, Mr. Potter. I trust when you're finished you'll return directly to Gryffindor Tower. After the Weasley twins' preformance this evening the last thing Gryffindor needs is to lose more house-points." With that she turned briskly around and glided back downstairs leaving Harry staring apprehensively, if not a bit fearfully at the door before him.

AN: I know it's a bit shorter than usual. I'm sorry to say that the next one will probably be even shorter. I was thinking about fusing the two chapters together, but decided that they each needed their own space. My chapters tend to fight if left unsupervised together for too long… That said: enjoy!


	10. Legacies

**Chapter 9:**

Harry took a deep breath and opened the door. The circular room inside was lit by a few lamps hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the faces of the past headmasters, all of them snoring gently in their frames. At the large desk sat Albus Dumbledore, his blue eyes glittering in the lamplight. He was smiling, which caused Harry to sigh inwardly with relief. Well, at least he didn't seem to be in any sort of trouble.

"Harry," Dumbledore greeted him warmly and gestured to a chair, "please, sit down." Harry sat down in one of the comfortable emerald chairs across from the Headmaster. He fidgeted nervously.

"You must be wondering why I've asked you here. I hope Professor McGonagall didn't alarm you. Don't worry, you haven't done anything wrong. I simply wanted to discuss your summer." He smiled. "I believe you finally met Miss Figg?"

Harry nodded, grinning. "Yes, she took me to Sirius' house to spend the summer. Professor, why didn't I ever know about her? I know it was dangerous when I was younger, but after I learned I was wizard… Why didn't anyone tell me she was there the entire time?"

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, as though wondering whether he should tell Harry or not. Then he smiled as he came to a decision and spoke. "Well, you see, had you known about her, it would have drawn attention to Miss Figg. You would probably have visited her more over the summer. I'm sure it would have raised your, ah, _family's_ suspicions had you spent so much time with someone who apparently seemed to be a mad old woman." Dumbledore's mustache twitched. "It was for both your protection."

Harry nodded. That made sense, but something bothered him. "But, if that's true, then why did you let me find out about her this year?"

"Ah," Dumbledore said slyly, "you see, Sirius and I have no intention of allowing you to go back to the Dursleys next summer."

At first Harry didn't understand, the shock didn't let him. Then slowly, he felt an indescribable bubble of happiness well up inside of him as his face split into an irrepressible grin. "You mean it?!" he exclaimed in excitement.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. As I said, your godfather and I discussed it, and Remus agrees. We think you'd be much better off either staying with the Weasley family over the summer or with members of the Order. I've already written to Mr. And Mrs. Weasley and they were thrilled to accept. Special shields will be placed on their house for your protection by aurors. It will take a while, which was why I wanted to have your consent now. We would like the shields to be in place by Christmas." Dumbledore smiled.

Harry couldn't believe it. He'd never have to go back to the Dursleys again. Ever! "Of course I agree! I—this is—I mean, wow!" Dumbledore chuckled. 

"Yes, 'wow' would quite sum it up."

"Professor, you don't know what this means to me," Harry said gratefully, still unable to believe his luck.

A flicker of sadness passed over Dumbledore's face. "I'm only sorry we didn't do this sooner. The idea at the beginning was to keep you away from the wizarding world until you were ready for it. Growing up in a world where everyone knew your name before you could even walk or talk. The past few years, however, we were simply looking for a suitable replacement and after the events of last year…" Dumbledore shook his head. "You need to be with people who love you, Harry."

Harry swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. Despite the Dursley's cruelty, he had a lot to thank Dumbledore for. He was right, Harry would have gone mad if he'd had to grow up in the wizarding world. Or worse, it might have all just gone to his head. He might have even ended up like Gilderoy Lockhart….

"Thank you, Professor," he said smiling. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, but Harry couldn't fail to notice how tired he looked under his kindly gaze. 

"You're welcome Harry. If you ever need to talk I'm here. Now, how _was_ your summer?"

So Harry told him everything, from the time he'd been sent over to Arabella's until he'd received the letter informing him that Ginny was in the hospital. Dumbledore listened with great interest the entire time, stopping Harry several times to ask him about one thing or another. Harry told him about Godrics Hollow, but not about the memory he'd had. He was still saving that. 

When he got to the part about the hospital, Harry fell silent. Dumbledore understood and told Harry that he could continue onto the rest of his summer. Harry smiled gratefully and finished telling him all about his time with the Weasleys and Ginny's recovery. He didn't mention her current condition.

Dumbledore smiled when Harry was done. "It sounds as though all in all, you had a wonderful summer." Harry nodded. "Very well, I'm pleased to hear it. If there's nothing else you wish to tell me, you can go back to your dormitory. I'm sure you're quite tired after that marvelous feast. I must remember to go down to the kitchens one of these days and compliment the house-elves."

Harry stood up to leave, thanking Dumbledore again profusely. He was nearly out the door when he remembered something. "Er, Professor?" he called stopping and turning around. Dumbledore looked up from his desk with a rather vague look. 

"Hm?" 

"There is one other thing I wanted to ask you."

"Of course, Harry. As I said before, feel free to come ask me anything, anytime. I will always answer as truthfully as I can." Dumbledore twinkled at him.

Harry nodded, encouraged. "Professor, I've been having…" Harry faltered, not knowing quite how to explain his predicament. Dumbledore's face was kind, urging him on. Harry smiled slightly. "I've been having strange dreams."

Dumbledore's expression was unreadable. Harry fidgeted.

"What type of dreams exactly?" he asked, his eyes flickering momentarily to Harry's scar.

"No," Harry said firmly, "for once, nothing to do with Voldemort. At least, I don't think so…" It was fully possible that Harry's recent dreams were connected, though he wasn't sure exactly how.

"I see," said Dumbledore, "what then, was so strange about these particular dreams?"

Harry stepped forward and sat down once again, looking across the desk at his mentor. He could still get out of this, he didn't have to continue, but something inside him made him sit still. He needed to know.

"The first one was the strangest. I had it one night while Ginny was…" Harry trailed off. That time wasn't one of his favorite memories.

"I understand," Dumbledore said simply.

Harry smiled gratefully and continued. "I was in the Chamber of Secrets," he said, swallowing uneasily, "and I knew that there was someone else there, though I couldn't see him. He was walking towards me and when he stopped he spoke to me." Harry gave an involuntary shudder before continuing. "He said he'd been sought out by someone, he didn't say who, but he said that he hadn't agreed to serve that wizard because he had sensed me." Harry closed his eyes. That venomous voice still rang clear in his mind.

_"I felt you when he came to me, begging my allegiance. I gave not to him what another, stronger maybe, could possess. And the Darkness is great in you as well."_

"Harry?" Dumbledore interrupted Harry's thoughts. He was looking at him calmly and Harry took strength from those sparkling blue eyes.

"He sounded evil and when I told him to leave me alone. He said that he wasn't someone I would want as an enemy. His voice…" Harry paused. Pure venom and power. "He was so powerful, his voice nearly threw me off my feet. I still told him to go away but he just laughed. And then," Harry stumbled a moment, not knowing how to put into words what had happened next and afraid of what Dumbledore would think. "He said that the Darkness was great in me and the worst of it was," he swallowed and continued in a whisper, "I knew he was right." Harry looked down at his shoes in embarrassment. However when several moments had passed and Dumbledore still hadn't said anything, he raised his head to find the Headmaster gazing at him no differently than he had before.

"Harry, you were right to believe him, what he said was true." Harry felt his stomach sink. "However," Dumbledore continued, "It is also true for every living being in this world. Understand, Harry, everyone has a capacity for darkness, and the greater a wizard's initial power the more darkness he will hold inside. Even I," he chuckled suddenly. "What do you think would happen if I were to suddenly decide that I wished to serve the Dark?"

Harry stared at his Headmaster. If he were to serve the Dark? Harry swallowed nervously. They would all be lost, every last one of them. Dumbledore was in such a position that if he were to betray them, there would be no way to escape what would follow. Harry had never thought before about how much their safety, their chances of survival, depended on one person.

Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, yes." He sighed. "Do you see, Harry? I could if I wanted to, I am fully capable of it, as are you. So, yes, the Darkness is great in _us._"

Harry had never thought about it that way. It gave him some comfort but did nothing to boost his sense of safety….

He sat a few moments in silence, pondering. Could he do it? Could he do that to the people he loved? Ron, Hermione, Sirius? Ginny. He felt something stir within him and he knew, with sudden certainty that he could. The _point_ was that he _wouldn't._ That thought gave him so much comfort that it came as a shock. He hadn't realized the past weeks how much his dream had been weighing down on him.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, sighing.

"Anytime, Harry," Dumbledore twinkled at him. "Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?"

Harry thought for a moment and then suddenly recalled the one thing that had confused him the most in his dream. 

"Actually, Professor, there was. That voice, he called me something, but I didn't really understand what he meant by it."

"Oh?" asked Dumbledore, politely curious.

"Yes. He called me… what was it?" Harry furrowed his brow, trying to remember. "Oh, yeah," he said finally, "He called me 'One of Power'."

Dumbledore sat up straight in his chair, eyes wide in shock. That in itself made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. Dumbledore was never surprised, or if he was then he hid it well. Harry hadn't been expecting this reaction. He watched with a sense of foreboding as Dumbledore stood up and paced back and forth in agitation.

"Professor?" Harry queried.

Dumbledore seemed not to hear him. The wizened old wizard stopped in front of the window in his circular office. 

"Professor?" Harry asked again, quietly.

"Are you sure?" Dumbledore asked, his back to Harry.

Harry nodded, and then realized Dumbledore couldn't see him. "Yes," he answered. "I'm positive. I've been dreaming those words ever since. These voices… it's like they're calling me."

Harry heard Dumbledore sigh and it seemed his shoulders stooped suddenly with a heavy burden. He turned around and Harry noticed how tired he looked. He didn't look powerful or brilliant or wise… he just looked like a tired old man that had gone through more than he'd ever wanted in life. 

Dumbledore gazed at Harry. "It can't be. I simply don't see how…" He walked back over to his desk and sat down in his chair.

Harry was still completely in the dark. He had no idea what was going on and on top of it all, Dumbledore's reaction was frightening him. 

"Harry, I had no idea. If I'd known then things would have been very different today. I—you—" Dumbledore struggled to find words, another fact that startled Harry deeply.

"Professor, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Could you please explain why this is such a big deal?" Harry asked in frustration.

Dumbledore stared long and hard at Harry, sizing him up. "Well, I suppose I have to. You can't walk around not knowing. It would be dangerous."

Now Harry was really alarmed. Dangerous? How?

Dumbledore continued. "I don't even know how to begin. There hasn't been One of Power born for at least nine hundred years." Harry looked at Dumbledore expectantly. "Well, I suppose I should begin at the beginning, hm?" He tried to smile but seemed too shaken. He took a deep breath and began. 

"You see, in the beginning of time, when magic was born, the bearers were so powerful that they were feared beyond belief. They held so much magic in their blood that they lived for thousands of years. **Are they still alive? No. But those were only the first wizards and witches. Four of them. Morgana, Paracelsus, Cliodne and Merlin. They were named the Great Ones. Merlin, as you well know, is the most famous wizard of all time and I'm sure you've learned about him in your classes. Paracelsus was a genius in alchemy. I dare say he discovered it, however his greed became so great that he was corrupted and people lived in fear of him for hundreds of years. Cliodne was a druidess and found great use for her powers in healing. And Morgana, well, Morgana is known as the most evil sorceress the world has ever known. The things she did with her power were unthinkable. **Now, Merlin was supposed to live in about 6th or 5th century, IIRC.  This couldn't work, because ancient Egyptian wizards (think 3000 BC) used curses on their tombs in the pyramids (PoA)  Or were these the ancient ones who were not wizards, just God people?  Also, Ollivanders opened in 382 BC.  Does that make the founder of the shop a wizard?  Or an ancient magic bearer?  I don't get it… Why doesn't it work? Just those four were great ones. All the others were regular wizards… Merlin lived in the 5th, 6th century, but who's to say he wasn't around before that? The founder of Ollivander's would just be a regular wizard, I don't see why he'd be anything else… 

"Now, they were the only ones with such power. Their descendants had magic but not nearly as much power as those before them.. And of course, most of the magical population was Muggle born. **Which means that all are technically Muggle born… Pretty much, yeah…

"It was over the period of many years that people began to see a pattern among the descendants of the Great Ones. Once every so often, one would be born with abilities far beyond those of a normal wizard. Not all of the descendants had these capabilities, actually, only a small percentage did and many of them couldn't control their power and there were few that could teach them to do so. It was for this reason that the descendants of the Great Ones slowly died out."

There was a funny feeling growing in Harry's gut, one he didn't like at all. He was afraid of what would come next…

Dumbledore took a deep breath.

"Those wizards were called Ones of Power."

The silence in the room held an ominous note as Dumbledore watched Harry. Harry sat staring at the floor, his mind working furiously at trying to comprehend what he had just been told.

"So," he said in a quiet voice, "I had a dream and now you think I'm descended from Merlin or one of those other ones. No." He shook his head. "No, I won't have it. It was just a dream." He looked up at Dumbledore, fire raging in his eyes. "It doesn't prove anything."**Was Gryffindor a descendent also?  Because that seems a lot more likely that Harry was a descendent of his… As much as it's been done before, yes. Harry is Gryffindor's descendant who was Merlin's descendant.

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, I need to ask you. Have you managed-- have you done magic without your wand?"

The fire abruptly went out to be replaced with unease. "What does that have to do with anything?" Harry asked stubbornly.

"So you have, then." It wasn't a question.

"It still doesn't mean anything," Harry retorted. This was the last thing he needed. Another thing he'd be famous for, another thing that would put him in danger!

"Harry," Dumbledore explained gently, "wandless magic is common among younger wizards up until they reach adolescence. Once they reach a certain age, that ability disappears. Grown wizards haven't performed wandless magic for nine-hundred years. Not since the last One of Power."

Harry glared at the floor, suddenly all too aware of how his voice had deepened and how tall he'd grown over the past year or so. The last time he'd preformed wandless magic before this summer had been when he'd blown up his Aunt Marge in the summer before his third year. 

"The first time was in St. Mungo's. I don't know how, but I blew up a vase without meaning to." He wasn't going to go into the events leading up to that, though. "The second time was today, on the train. Malfoy…" Harry blushed, aware that he might get in trouble for what he was going to say, "Malfoy was, er, bothering us. I told him to leave and he didn't listen and then the window in the door shattered. I knew I'd done it, I just wasn't sure how. I thought it could have been because I was so angry but after what you said…" Harry paused, shock slowly registering itself in his brain. "Nine hundred years…" he muttered in awe.

Dumbledore didn't say anything about the incident on the train. He looked rather worried. "Harry, Ones of Power had outstanding magical abilities. Don't forget, many of them died because they couldn't control them."

Harry swallowed. "But, Professor, if it's true, if I really am and if there hasn't been one for nine hundred years, then there isn't anyone that would know how to help me," Harry was panicking, "There's no one that'll know how to control it!"

"Harry, calm down," Dumbledore said quietly, smiling softly. "Wizards saw this situation thousands of years ago. They had the foresight to record the knowledge and information connected to Ones of Power in a few secret books that very few know of."

Harry looked up sharply at Dumbledore. "Then how do you know about them?" he asked warily.

Dumbledore sighed. "I am the keeper of one of the most ancient tomes. It has been passed down in my family throughout the years, entrusted to our care. Before my father, Aldaren Dumbledore, passed away, he told me of the book, its uses and where it was hidden. He made me promise to keep it safe just in case One of Power should arise again and to pass it on to my son after me. I have no children, Harry," Dumbledore said, a pained look in his crystal blue eyes, "the book will be passed on to you."

Harry gazed at Dumbledore, his eyes pleading. "Please," he said in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper, "I'm not, I can't be. I can't do this. Professor," Harry said, looking for any thread of hope he could cling to, "it's been nine hundred years. The Ones of Power probably all died out. I—please?"

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid there are signs, my boy. The wandless magic would be proof enough to even the most critical and disbelieving. But the dream, Harry. You've forgotten the dream. You'd never heard of Ones of Power before, had you? Barely anyone today knows that they ever existed. Dreams are subconscious thoughts that surface while you sleep. If you'd never heard of Ones of Power, how could you dream someone called you one? The dream was a vision, Harry, a vision."

Harry swallowed. He'd had several visions before, but they'd always been caused by his link to Voldemort through his scar.

Dumbledore continued. "The other dreams you mentioned, the ones following the vision, you said the voices were calling you. The vision somehow triggered your magic and now, you can't escape it, no matter what you do. The only way is to learn to control it."

"And if I don't want to?" Harry asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

Dumbledore sighed. "In the beginning, you'll barely feel it's there. The magic will heighten a few of your abilities, sharpen your skills. Then it will get worse. Anything you're feeling will be expressed in your magic. If you're afraid, you will shield yourself or somehow manage to banish the object of your fear. If you're excited, you might begin levitating objects without realizing it, or worse, and if you're angry…" Dumbledore trailed off.

"I might really hurt someone," Harry said quietly. Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes. A good example would be the incident on the train, when you shattered a window. Now, magnify that tenfold. That's what could happen if you don't learn to control it. Then, eventually, magic will radiate from you non-stop. You won't be able to keep it inside. And it won't only hurt others, it will hurt you as well." Dumbledore paused and cleared his throat uneasily. "Ones of Power that didn't learn control often went mad before the end."

Harry's eyes widened in fear and he sank back into his chair, shivering. He swallowed nervously, his eyes flickering to the clock on the table in front of him.

"How long do I have?" he asked in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

Dumbledore looked away from Harry, taking a deep breath. "Three, four months, perhaps."

Harry closed his eyes and shakily raked a hand through his hair. "Three months…" he muttered leaning forward, head in his hands, and balancing his elbows on the desk. He couldn't believe this was happening. It wasn't enough that he was the Boy Who Lived. It wasn't enough that Voldemort wanted him dead, or that he'd never be able to have a normal life. No. Six months. He had six months. Harry thought about Ron, Hermione and the Weasleys. What would they think of this? What would Ginny think? She needed him right now. He was the only one who knew what a hard time she was having. He needed to be there for her.

Harry lifted his head taking a deep breath. "Can you teach me? You said you were the keeper of that book, you studied it, right?"

Dumbledore nodded. "That's the reason it was given to me, to teach, Harry. I have been teaching my entire lifetime. Besides, I don't believe we have much of a choice. If I don't help you, the consequences could affect not only you and those who love you, but the whole world as well. These are hard times. Voldemort has returned to power and has already begun his assault on the wizarding world. Harry, you are One of Power," Dumbledore's eyes suddenly sparkled to life with hope, "if you were taught correctly how to use your gift you would be invaluable to the opposition, you—" Dumbledore stopped abruptly at the look on Harry's face.

Harry was furious. From the time he'd been born he'd sacrificed everything to stop Voldemort. His parents were dead, he'd grown up as no child ever should, among people who hated and despised him. He'd been thrown into an unfamiliar world without any knowledge of his past. Every year he'd faced terrible danger and had on countless occasions nearly been killed. Last year, he'd had to watch as Cedric Diggory had been murdered before his eyes and this summer had been the last straw. He'd nearly lost Ginny before he'd even had a chance to get to know her, something that he was coming to see would have been a very great loss.

"I'm not learning this for the opposition," he said, his voice determined and surprisingly steady despite his anger. "I won't be used anymore. I didn't ask for any of this, I never have, yet someone seems to think it'd be funny to see how much I can take before I explode. Well," Harry gave a dry, humorless laugh, "maybe I'll just blow myself up and be done with it!" His voice was slowly rising with his anger. "From what you've told me, all I have to do is wait a bit and I'll have no trouble! People will finally leave me alone! No more Voldemort, no more war, no more killing and no more famous Harry Potter!"

There was a loud cracking noise behind Harry as he felt a surge of power. He turned around to find a large floor-to-ceiling mirror with a split right down the middle. Harry's mouth dropped open, his anger leaving him in an instant to be replaced with blind panic. It was true, it was all true.

"I—I'm sorry," he whispered shakily, turning back around. Dumbledore was still looking at the mirror. There was wonder in his eyes.

Harry was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. He'd had a tiring day and now this. It had left him completely drained and he suddenly found that all he wanted was his nice warm four-poster in the fifth year boys' dormitories. He wished there was a way to just put everything on hold until he felt like he could deal with it. But there wasn't.

"Professor, I can't do this. It's too hard, please…" he said, as though Dumbledore could somehow make it go away.

Dumbledore looked back at Harry, sympathy in his eyes. "I know, Harry, but that doesn't change anything. I'm sorry. I will try my best to teach you the little I know and hopefully, it will suffice. If not," Dumbledore gazed back at the mirror. Harry knew what he was thinking.

Harry got up to leave. He didn't see any reason to stay anymore. 

"Harry, one last thing," Dumbledore stopped him right before he reached the door. "About your dream. There still remains the matter of who approached you in that vision. Do you have any idea? Did you recognize the voice at all?" Harry shook his head, too tired to even answer. Dumbledore sighed. "Very well. Go get some sleep Harry. I will send McGonagall to call you when I'm ready to begin your lessons. Don't worry," he stopped Harry, just as he was going to interrupt. "I won't tell her the nature of our conversation this evening." 

Harry smiled feebly and left, stepping onto the rotating staircase and gliding until he reached the bottom. His mind was awhirl with hundreds of thoughts all at once. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He didn't want to believe. Harry was so caught up in the events that he wandered through the corridors without paying much attention to where he was going, but before he knew it, he'd reached Gryffindor Tower and the portrait of the Fat Lady. It was then that Harry realized he didn't know the password. He sighed as he slumped down against the wall next to the painting. Harry briefly recalled the countless times Neville had been trapped outside in much the same manner. He found he didn't care. At least like this he wouldn't have to face his friend's prying questions, wouldn't have to lie to them. At least not for tonight.

Harry felt as though he'd just had to get past three Hungarian Horntails and his brain was so muddled, he couldn't think any more. He was just drifting off on the floor when he heard the portrait swing open.

"Harry?" Ginny whispered, her voice full of concern. With effort, Harry raised his head and looked at her, trying to get his vision to focus. She seemed a bit blurry to him.

"Gin?"

Footsteps… a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, what happened? You look like, well, never mind, but, what are you doing out here?" She helped him get to his feet and he found he needed her support more than he would have expected. 

"Don't know the password," he mumbled. Ginny helped him get though the portrait hole and into the empty common room where she sat him down firmly on a sofa in front of the dying fire.

"It's _Squag__-Pickle_. Wait here," she said quietly, "I'll go get Hermione."

"No," Harry panicked, clutching at her hand. "Please, don't call anyone. I'm fine, really."

Ginny looked him up and down appraisingly, much the same way her mother might if she thought he was ill but then sighed and sat down next to him. 

"Do you want to tell me what Dumbledore wanted?" she asked gently.

Harry gazed into the fire, the warmth of the common room making him sleepier than before. "He wanted to know how my summer went."

"That's all?" Ginny asked incredulously.

Harry shook his head. "No, but I don't want to talk about it." He sighed. "I just want to go to sleep. I'm really tired, it's been a long day."

Concern flitted across Ginny's face but she nodded. "Do you want help? You look like you might collapse any moment."

Harry gave her a half-smile. "No, I'll manage. Were you waiting for me this whole time?" 

Ginny blushed. "Yes. Ron, Hermione and I thought someone should wait for you. Ron was going to, but I asked him to let me."

"Why?"

Ginny's blush deepened as she answered. "I don't know. I suppose I thought you might need someone when you got back, and after today on the train, I wanted to thank you for understanding." She said, as she picked at a loose thread in her dressing gown.

Harry nodded. "I appreciate it, Ginny. Thanks. I wouldn't have been able to deal with Ron or Hermione's questions right now. Thanks for not pushing." He slowly got to his feet, steadying himself on the back of the couch. He headed for the stairs leading to his dorm. Ginny walked next to him until he reached them and then turned to go. Harry caught her arm gently before she went. 

"Goodnight, Ginny," he said softly.

Ginny smiled, her eyes dancing in the firelight, making Harry's stomach twist. 

"Goodnight, Harry."

He started climbing the steps when-

"Harry?"

He turned around. Ginny was looking up at him, but her expression was unreadable.

"Whatever it is, things are never as bad as they seem." With that, Ginny turned back and headed towards the girls' rooms.

Harry climbed the rest of the stairs until reaching the room at the top. He didn't even change out of his clothes before he climbed into bed and fell asleep, completely exhausted.


	11. And So it Begins

AN: I'd like to thank everyone who has actually stayed with this story until now. I am a horrible person who never updates and who nearly decided to not continue this. I didn't see a point when I heard Book Five was FINALLY coming out. I didn't think I'd have enough TIME! But, I'm determined to see this through, if only to hear your horrified reviews when I leave you hanging with the wortst cliffies the world has ever seen. Cliffies to rival even the Evil Queen Imogen's!!!! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So! Here we go again! Please, stick with me! And thanks for the reviews!  
  
Chapter Ten: And it Begins.  
  
The next morning Harry awoke with a feeling of dread. He'd slept uneasily, and his dreams had been vague and confusing. As he lay in the confines of his warm bed, morning sunlight filtering through the window, it took him a moment to remember why he felt so grim. Then he remembered his conversation with Dumbledore the evening before.  
  
Harry groaned into his pillow and turned over, shielding his eyes from the light groggily. Maybe if he went back to sleep it would all go away. He knew with certainty that he didn't want to face the world today and he definitely didn't want to have to deal with the prying and curious questions he was sure to receive from his friends.  
  
Ginny had been surprisingly understanding the night before, to Harry's great relief. He was still rather flattered that she'd waited up for him and her obvious concern for his well-being made his insides flutter, but he hadn't told her then and he didn't want to tell her now. He knew he'd have to tell her though. Ginny deserved to know, as did Ron and Hermione. They were his friends.  
  
"Harry?" came a voice from the bed opposite his own. "You awake?"  
  
It was Ron. He was awake and must have heard Harry shifting.  
  
"Yeah," he replied, sighing and sitting up, pulling the curtains of his four-poster aside as he did. Ron's freckled face stared back at him, his hair sticking up in every direction. It seemed he hadn't been awake for very long. "What time is it?" Harry asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  
  
"Quarter of seven," Ron yawned out. "We've got to get down to breakfast."  
  
Just the thought of food made Harry feel nauseous. He didn't think he'd ever be able to eat again. Neville stirred in his bed and Dean grunted.  
  
"Harry, what was all that about with Dumbledore last night?"  
  
Harry sighed and got out of bed, pulling on some robes. It had begun.  
  
"I'll tell all of you tonight, ok? Just give me some time." Harry couldn't get it out just yet, and besides, tonight they'd have a lot more privacy. This wasn't something you discussed over the breakfast table.  
  
Ron raised an eyebrow in question, but when Harry didn't say anything else, proceeded to get dressed as well. The other boys were all nearly awake by now, so Harry and Ron didn't bother them as they crept out of the room, noiselessly and made their way down to breakfast.  
  
The Great Hall was only half full when they got there. Ginny and Hermione had met up with them in common room and they'd all gone down together. Hermione had been inquisitive and had bombarded him with questions all the way down and Harry's disgruntled non-answers did nothing to stem the flow. All in all, he was in a worse mood as he sat down than when he'd awoken. Harry's day was definitely getting off to a rocky start.  
  
"But, really," Hermione exclaimed as she buttered her toast, "why can't you tell us now? I imagine what Dumbledore told you was very important. Was it something dangerous?" Hermione asked in agitation. "Oh, Harry, it didn't have anything to do with-" Hermione left the sentence unfinished but the word 'Voldemort' hung in the air as though she'd shouted it.  
  
"No, it didn't, don't worry." Harry may have been annoyed just then, but he knew that Hermione was just worried. They were all on edge; the whole Wizarding World was since Voldemort's returned. Harry gave Hermione a small smile and said, yet again, "I told you that I'd tell you everything tonight. Now's not the time, all right? Believe me."  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to protest but a look from Ron silenced her. She flushed slightly as she seemed to realized she'd been practically harassing Harry and poured herself some pumpkin juice. Harry shot Ron a grateful look and took a sip from his goblet. He really wasn't very hungry.  
  
Ginny had been oddly silent on the way down and hadn't said a word yet. Harry shot her a glance to see if something was wrong. She was staring down at her plate, picking at her eggs half-heartedly with her fork and there were dark shades under her eyes, like the beginning of circles. Ginny didn't look well at all.  
  
"Ginny?" Harry asked softly, while Ron was talking to Hermione about the course schedule. She looked up abruptly, as though startled and grinned slightly when she saw his worried expression.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Aren't you going to ask me about yesterday as well?" he asked. Last night he'd told her he didn't want to talk about it and Ginny had accepted that without argument but he'd expected her to ask again this morning.  
  
Ginny's smile grew wider, causing the shadows to fade almost completely. "Harry, I know you'll tell me when you feel like it. I can see you don't want to talk about whatever happened, but whenever you feel you need to talk about anything at all, you can always come to me. I won't press you."  
  
Harry felt his spirits lift ever so slightly at her words. He'd never imagined that people like Ginny Weasley existed and he was grateful to have her as a friend. Then Harry asked her what had really been bothering him. "How are you feeling?"  
  
Ginny sighed and went back to picking at her eggs, which, in Harry's opinion, wasn't a very good sign. "I'm alright. I'm just- tired, I guess," she said stabbing at a fried tomato.  
  
"Are you sure? You had a fever on the train yesterday," Harry said, not convinced.  
  
Ginny looked up at him abruptly. "Oh? How do you know that, may I ask?" Her forlorn look had turned into one of impish glee and Harry found himself blushing.  
  
"Er, well I, er, you seemed cold, so I checked. You were pretty warm." Harry looked down at his plate, his own eggs lying untouched as well.  
  
Harry heard Ginny chuckle in amusement. "Harry Potter," Harry looked up at her as she shook her head, "you never cease to amaze me.." Harry didn't know if that was good or bad, so he kept quiet and resumed staring at his plate.  
  
Soon after, the course schedules were passed around. Ron groaned when he saw they still had double potions with the Slytherins every Tuesday and Friday. However, who their professor would be still remained a mystery. Professor Grubbly-Plank would be teaching them Care of Magical Creatures, much to Hermione's delight, and Defense Against the Dark Arts would be taught by none other than.  
  
"Dumbledore?!" Harry exclaimed in surprise. Ron and Hermione both gasped. "Dumbledore's going to be teaching Defense? I guess there was no one else for the job." he reasoned. He couldn't help but feel happy about it. Harry trusted Dumbledore, no matter what happened. The teaching arrangements would probably also give the Headmaster a chance to watch over Harry.  
  
They finished their breakfasts, said good-bye to Ginny and headed out to the greenhouses for Herbology.  
  
The day passed without event. Professor Sprout had them working in greenhouse four this year and Harry had been quite intrigued by half of the things in there. They'd spent the entire lesson chasing Dodo Daffodils and trying to trap them in paddocks. It was nearly impossible as the plants used their roots to run amok and unfortunately were capable of shooting thorns from their leaves. Scratched, sweaty and dirty, the Gryffindors trudged up to Gryffindor Tower to change and get cleaned up before heading down to Charms. Professor Flitwick would be teaching them a series of Location spells for different circumstances. They were very much like Summoning spells except for the fact that you didn't know where the object you were Summoning was. They were supposed to be Locating quills that Flitwick had hid about the room but the only thing Harry seemed to manage to Locate was dust, which kept wafting towards him in clouds making him and Ron go into bouts of irrepressible sneezing. Seamus Finnigan seemed to find it hilariously funny until he Located a wad of old chewing gum, which landed unceremoniously in his hair.  
  
After a quick lunch, Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone out for Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Grubbly-Plank was an elderly witch with closely cropped gray hair and a rather prominent chin, giving students the correct impression that she wasn't to be crossed. Harry remembered that she seemed to ignore the boys in her lessons more or less and focus on the girls. It was bad enough that Hagrid was gone. Now they had to suffer her as well.  
  
"Good afternoon, class. I trust you all remember me from last year, when Hagrid was busy. I'm sorry to inform you that he may not be teaching you at all this year. For those of you who have forgotten, I am Professor Grubbly- Plank. I will be taking over Hagrid's classes."  
  
Ron sniggered at the Professor and gestured to Harry pointing out that that was quite obvious.  
  
Hermione huffed up. "Honestly Ron. You should be happy that Professor Grubbly-Plank offered to teach. She's a very intelligent woman."  
  
Ron only rolled his eyes.  
  
"Excuse me?" came Professor Grubbly-Planks stern voice from the front of the crowd gathered before Hagrid's cabin. "You, sir, with the red hair. What's your name?"  
  
Ron fidgeted uneasily, clearly unaware of what he'd done wrong. "Er, Ron Weasley, Professor."  
  
"Yes, well, Mr. Weasley, I don't appreciate you interrupting my class. Please be quiet."  
  
Ron's mouth fell open as she went back to talking about kelpies. He stared at Hermione in shock. Hermione only gave a small, amused smile and continued taking notes.  
  
Ron turned to Harry. "Well, how do you like that?" he whispered, clearly disgruntled.  
  
Harry barely had time to do anything before Professor Grubbly-Plank's voice rang clear across towards them again.  
  
"Mr. Weasley!" she exclaimed. "I warned you. Ten points from Gryffindor for your lack of listening skills." Ron turned bright red, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water in frustration. When they finally headed towards the lake for a closer look at the kelpies, he stayed as far away from the Professor as he could and shot her dirty looks every time she had her back turned.  
  
"Can you believe her?!" he shouted in outrage as they headed for Defense Against the Dark Arts forty minutes later. "What did I do?!"  
  
"Oh, come on, Ron. You know the Professor's right. You weren't listening and there are two whole chapters about Kelpies! How do you expect to pass if you're not listening?" Hermione exclaimed.  
  
Ron made an incredulous noise in his throat and Harry had a feeling that he would have strangled her right there and then, no matter what Harry suspected might be going on between them, had they not reached the classroom at that moment and walked in to find Dumbledore already sitting at the front desk.  
  
The Gryffindors shuffled in quietly, glancing at the headmaster uneasily. They didn't know quite what to expect from the coming lesson. They'd been assigned no books and were one of the first classes of the year, so they hadn't yet heard others' opinions.  
  
Dumbledore sat silently, watching them file in and take their seats, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. His gaze lingered on Harry perhaps a fraction longer than it did on the others as Harry sat down in the second row next to Ron.  
  
When everyone was seated, Dumbledore stood up and walked around to the front of his desk.  
  
"As I'm sure you are all wondering why exactly I will be teaching you Defense against the Dark Arts this year, I will relieve you of the suspense. The most important reason is, of course, because the world has become a most dangerous place since the end of the last school year. Voldemort has returned."  
  
The class, as one, drew in a shuddering breath when Dumbledore said Voldemort's name. Harry ignored them and Dumbledore continued.  
  
"I feel that I can no longer allow myself to hire just anyone as the professor. Over the past few years, you have not even begun to delve into the obscure, complicated tangle that is Defense Against the Dark Arts. Normally, what you have learned up until now would suffice. Normally." Dumbledore peered over his glasses at the Gryffindors who sat as still as stone, and as silent. Dumbledore sighed, "We are all living in very abnormal times, I'm sorry to say, and I wish nothing more than that none of you should ever have had to face what looms before us and the entire Wizarding World. However, we cannot change the events that have led to these dark times. The only hope we have is to change the course of the future by using what tools we have." Dumbledore paused and gazed quite obviously at Harry. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing exactly which tools Dumbledore meant. His discussion with the headmaster the previous evening all came flooding back to him, and with it, his anger at Dumbledore's renewed hope for the opposition.  
  
"There are a few people that I would have entrusted with your education at this point, but they are all currently indisposed. Therefore, as I am the only one left, I'm afraid you will have to endure the teachings of an old bumbling man." Dumbledore shrugged non-challantly and twinkled at them. Most of the class grinned. Hermione barely seemed able to contain her excitement.  
  
"I have heard rumors that the students believe the position is cursed. No teacher lasts more than a year, am I correct?" The class nodded. Dumbledore chuckled. "I assure you that I would know if such a curse had been placed. It has not. However I cannot account for what the school itself might be responsible for." Harry looked over at Ron in confusion. Ron shrugged, turning back to the front of the room and Harry waited for Dumbledore's explanation. He didn't give it though; seeming to think what he'd said was quite normal and completely obvious.  
  
"Very well, now that that's out of the way we will begin." Dumbledore leaned back and half-sat on his desk. He slowly looked around the room; his face impassive and then said one word.  
  
"Voldemort."  
  
Everyone except Harry flinched.  
  
"Fear of a name, increases fear of the thing itself. I myself have always held with the belief that reluctance to speak Voldemort's name only increases his power and capability to defeat us. If we can't even speak his name, how can we be expected to stand before him and keep our wits about us? How can we be expected to defeat him?"  
  
Harry sat riveted to his seat. He had a feeling he knew what Dumbledore planned for his first lesson and all Harry could think was that it was about time someone did it. There were uneasy murmurs from his classmates at Dumbledore's words, but the headmaster continued and they all fell silent.  
  
"I doubt many of you are aware of this, but Voldemort is not even the Dark Lord's true name." Dumbledore paused as the class broke into confused whispers. When the noise died down, he continued. "Tom Marvolo Riddle, was born to a magical mother. and a Muggle father. His mother died when he was young. He killed his father. He grew up in a Muggle orphanage until he was sent to Hogwarts where he was sorted into Slytherin. Tom was one of the most outstanding students this school has ever seen, and one of the most brilliant. He opened the Chamber of Secrets in his sixth year, though no one suspected it was him, and framed another student for his actions, causing that student's expulsion from school. He was a prefect and the Head Boy in his seventh year and almost every teacher's favorite student. I knew him personally. He was a very charming young man." Dumbledore gazed around the room, watching every student's reaction to his words. Harry, Ron and Hermione knew all of this already, they knew who Dumbledore was talking about so it came as no great surprise, but the rest of the students had never suspected that Voldemort had ever been anyone but- Voldemort. Neville looked as though he might faint in shock.  
  
"After he finished school, Tom traveled the world, searching, always searching for power. He craved it more than anything and he killed anyone who stood in his way. He underwent so many transformations, body and soul, that when he once again returned to the Wizarding World, no one recognized him as the boy he once was. They knew him only as 'Lord Voldemort'." Dumbledore took a deep breath and shook his head. "Would you fear to speak Tom Riddle's name?" he asked in a way that showed he expected an answer.  
  
Slowly, everyone in the room, one by one, shook their heads.  
  
Dumbledore nodded his assent. "Very well. By the end of this lesson, each one of you will speak Voldemort's name. Your assignment will be to continue to speak Voldemort's name until you don't fear it anymore. I am teaching you this class so that you will learn how to defend yourselves. You will learn. This will not be an easy class. Many of you will be forced to do things you find very unpleasant. All of you will pass." Dumbledore's eyes were ablaze with determination as he caught each student's eye. When he said everyone would pass, he specifically looked at Neville, who gulped and slid down in his seat uneasily.  
  
It was probably the hardest thing many of them had ever had to do. Harry watched as each student was called to the front of the room to stand before Dumbledore. Some stumbled and stuttered, others shook visibly, but each one, no matter how difficult it was for them, said Voldemort's name by the end of the lesson, as Dumbledore said they would. Neville had the hardest time of it. Harry knew how hard it must be for him. He knew what Voldemort had done to the Gryffindor's family. Yet Neville never whined, he never asked for anyone's pity. No one other than Harry even knew about his parents' fate.  
  
In the end, even Neville managed to get a shaky "V-v-voldem-m-mort" out before collapsing back in his chair, pale and shaking.  
  
Ron also had a bit of trouble. He'd open his mouth to speak and then close it abruptly, shaking his head, his eyes pleading. He'd looked around the room, panicking, searching for help until his eyes fell on Hermione. Harry had watched Ron stand unmoving, as he held Hermione's gaze. His skin had gone from pallid to stark white as thoughts Harry couldn't decipher passed through the boy's head. In the end, Ron had closed his eyes and swallowed nervously before saying in a controlled, firm voice, "Voldemort."  
  
At the end of the lesson, Dumbledore assigned them their homework and wished them a good day as cheerfully as could be.  
  
"Harry, Ron, could I see you both for a moment?" Dumbledore asked as they passed his desk on their way out. Hermione shot them a puzzled look, but continued outside. Harry and Ron approached the headmaster's desk apprehensively, but Dumbledore smiled at them both, dispelling any worries.  
  
"Good job today, Ron," Dumbledore said, causing Ron to blush crimson with pride. Harry grinned at his friend's expression.  
  
"Might I suggest a cup of hot chocolate to sooth the nerves? I'm sure Dobby would willingly oblige downstairs in the kitchens." Harry and Ron exchanged glances. Students weren't exactly supposed to go down to the kitchens. Dumbledore's mustache twitched. "After the chocolate, Professor McGonagall wishes to see both of you in her office. Tonight at seven, to be exact. I told her I'd give you the message." Dumbledore chuckled at their horrified expressions.  
  
"Now, Mr. Weasley, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a word with Harry for a moment," Dumbledore said. Ron, looking extremely nervous about whatever it was McGonagall wanted, barely heard him and left the room.  
  
Dumbledore's smile faded as he turned back to Harry. "I assume you haven't told them yet," he said with a sigh.  
  
"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "But I'm going to tonight."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Good, good. I think it would be best if they were there to stand by you during the next few months. You're going to have to work very hard, Harry to control yourself. It's not going to be easy and I don't envy the path you have ahead of you. However, I have complete faith in you, my boy." Dumbledore reached out a hand, unexpectedly and ruffled Harry's hair. Harry felt quite touched by the headmaster's words.  
  
"We will begin your training tomorrow. I think it best to get started right away. Time is not exactly on our side." Harry swallowed, fully aware of just how little time he really had.  
  
"After your lessons tomorrow, come to my office and we can begin." Harry nodded his consent, said goodbye to Dumbledore and left.  
  
Outside, Ron and Hermione were glaring at each other while waiting for him. Ron still seemed rather miffed about the earlier episode in Care of Magical Creatures. Harry sighed as he approached them.  
  
"You know," he said casually, "I'm starting to think it might be dangerous to leave you two alone together." Harry raised his eyebrows suggestively at the pair and to his great amusement, Ron and Hermione both blushed crimson and looked at each other sheepishly. It was a great improvement to their death-glares and Harry again found himself wondering just exactly what was going on between the two. Somehow, he didn't think anything serious had happened yet. Harry had a feeling that the scene he'd walked in on in St. Mungo's had been spur-of-the-moment. A friend comforting another friend, even though he'd suspected since some time last year that they'd be more than just friends. He'd just have to wait and see.  
  
"Why don't you two go down to the kitchens without me?" Harry asked, thoughts about more important things than his two best friends' love lives intruding upon his speculations. He'd made Ginny promise she'd go and see Madame Pomfrey today..  
  
Ron gave him a strange look. "You know, Harry, you've been acting odd all day. What's the matter with you?"  
  
Harry sighed in annoyance. This called for drastic measures. "I haven't been any odder than you and Hermione have been acting, lately.." That did it. Both his friends flushed furiously, mumbled their good-byes and walked awkwardly away, staring at the floor. Harry watched them go with a sly grin. He'd have to remember that tactic.  
  
Harry mentally shook himself and headed towards Gryffindor Tower. He wondered if Ginny was already finished for the day. He knew she'd protest; he might very well have to drag her to the hospital wing.  
  
However, Ginny wasn't there when Harry climbed through the portrait hole, even though his classmates were. He asked a girl in Ginny's year that he recognized as Rosie if she'd gone up to her dormitory. Ginny wasn't there either.  
  
"I think I saw her leaving a couple minutes ago," Rosie said, nodding towards the portrait hole.  
  
"Er, right. Any idea which way she went?" Harry asked. Rosie just shook her head apologetically. Harry thanked her and set off after Ginny. He wondered for a moment if perhaps she'd gone to the hospital wing after all and began walking in that general direction.  
  
He'd nearly reached Madame Pomfrey's realm when he came upon Ginny, looking rather sullen and very cranky. She was so preoccupied that she didn't see Harry until he was right behind her.  
  
"Hey, Gin."  
  
Ginny jumped and turned around abruptly, her eyes wide. "Wha-? Oh, Harry! You gave me a fright!"  
  
"Sorry," Harry grinned sheepishly, "didn't mean to, I was just coming to find you. I didn't think you'd come to see Madame Pomfrey on your own, though." The torchlight flickered across the two of them, glinting off of Ginny's hair, yet at the same time, deepening the shadows under her eyes. However, the look in her eyes made Harry want to cringe backwards and run away.  
  
"Well," Ginny sniffed haughtily, jabbing a finger at Harry's chest, "You, made me promise to come, and I keep my promises, even if they seem completely pointless! Honestly!" She shook her head, causing her curls to bounce in a way Harry found mesmerizing, "No faith in me whatsoever! It's enough with my brothers acting the way they do, you come along and start babying me as well!" Ginny seemed to be on the verge of tears.  
  
"Ginny?" Harry asked in astonishment, completely in the dark as to what exactly he'd done to set her off, "What are you talking about?"  
  
Ginny startled as if coming out of a dream and looked up at his worried face. Her eyes widened suddenly and the tears threatened to come spilling out in earnest. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I shouldn't have." Her lower lip trembled slightly as she spoke. "It's just been a hard first day back, is all. And Fred and George," here, her look turned murderous once again. "Well, never mind them. They were just being the usual prats." Ginny sighed, looking tired. "Forgive me?"  
  
Harry smiled. "Always. I didn't mean to upset you. What did Fred and George do, anyway?" he asked as they continued walking.  
  
Ginny sighed again. "They were just being older brothers, I suppose." They had reached the hospital wing and entered the sterile white corridor, wrinkling their noses at the all-too-familiar smell. "Of course, Fred and George being older brothers can be severely dangerous at times."  
  
Harry swallowed nervously, suddenly aware that that was entirely true and just what implications it could have towards him. Well, hopefully towards him, he thought as he watched Ginny sit down nervously in one of the chairs outside Madame Pomfrey's office. His thoughts drifted off to how her hair had glinted in the firelight minutes before.  
  
He snapped out of it when Madame Pomfrey came out. "Hello," she said in surprise when she saw them. She especially eyed Harry oddly and he had to grin. He spent enough time at the hospital wing without coming of his own free will. Ginny stood up and pulled her mother's note from her robe pocket. As she neared the nurse, Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, seeing suddenly the state Ginny was in.  
  
"Hello, Madame Pomfrey," Ginny said, somewhat exasperatedly, in Harry's opinion. "My mum told me to give you this when I got to school." She bit her lip and continued, "I was in a rather bad accident over the summer."  
  
Madame Pomfrey took the note. Her eyes widened as she read it and when she was finished, she looked up at Ginny, sympathy evident in her eyes. "Oh, you poor dear," she said softly. Ginny's cheeks glowed with displeasure. "That must have been absolutely dreadful." There was an awkward moment of silence, in which Ginny stared down at her shoes and Harry glared at Madame Pomfrey, even though she wasn't looking at him. A moment later, however, it passed. Madame Pomfrey, business-like once more, ushered Ginny briskly to one of the nearby beds and sat her down, though rather forcefully. Harry followed close behind and sat down on one of the beds opposite.  
  
The portly nurse then proceeded to bustle about, muttering spells and incantations, tapping her wand here and there, while Ginny sat looking extremely disgruntled. Harry had to stop himself from laughing repeatedly at the faces she kept making at Madame Pomfrey when her back was turned. It reminded him so much of Ron's encounter with Professor Grubbly-Plank earlier that day, that it was nearly impossible to keep a straight face.  
  
"She had a fever yesterday," he told Madame Pomfrey as she checked Ginny's temperature. Ginny sent him a venomous look and Harry grinned.  
  
Madame Pomfrey just "Hmm"ed" and continued pottering about. A few minutes later, she shooed Harry away and closed the curtains around Ginny.  
  
Harry sat next to Madame Pomfrey's office, waiting impatiently. The minutes passed by slowly and Harry fidgeted in his seat as he looked at the clock on the wall opposite him. It read "Time to pass out Vitalizing Potion," so Harry glanced down at his watch instead. It wasn't there. He still hadn't replaced his old one. Harry would have to start carrying his father's pocket watch around, he only wished he had it now.  
  
Madame Pomfrey pulled the curtains aside abruptly and walked back to her office, passing Harry on the way and giving him a small nod, as though she knew she'd be seeing him soon again anyway. She smiled back at Ginny.  
  
"That'll be all for now, dear. However, I expect to see you regularly for the next couple of weeks, agreed?" Even though she was smiling, she gave the impression that it didn't matter whether Ginny agreed or not. She'd be back by will, or by force. Ginny grudgingly grumbled her assent and Madame Pomfrey bustled away.  
  
Ginny sighed at her retreating form and sat down in a huff next to Harry.  
  
"Well?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. "What did she say? What's wrong?"  
  
Ginny looked puzzled as she answered. "Nothing," she said quietly.  
  
"Sorry?" Harry said, not sure he'd heard her correctly.  
  
"She said, nothing seems to be wrong. To all purposes, I'm completely healthy."  
  
Harry stared at Ginny, his brow furrowed in thought. He was thrilled that she was okay, but it didn't make any sense. Not after what he'd seen on the train the day before. "But, how.?" he trailed off, Ginny's puzzlement now mirrored in his features. "Did you explain everything? What happened yesterday?"  
  
Ginny nodded. "I don't know. It's strange. Madame Pomfrey said it's probably not even connected to the attack. Just a cold, or something of the sort. She gave me a potion to take that she said would help." Ginny held up a small glass bottle filled with purple liquid. She made a face. "It's horrid."  
  
Harry laughed at her obvious displeasure as his worry melted away, satisfied with Madame Pomfrey's explanation.  
  
~*~  
  
"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, please, have a seat."  
  
They stood in Professor McGonagall's cozy study, looking about them nervously as the fire in the large stone fireplace sent shadows across the walls and bookshelves. McGonagall was pointing at two large red velvet armchairs with gold tassles across from her mahogony desk. She herself sat in her seat, looking at them over her square spectacles, and revealing nothing of why they were here in her expression.  
  
Harry sank into a chair, trying to keep his calm, trying to convince himself that he hadn't yet done anything to deserve a punishment this year. Ron seemed to be struggling to keep from showing his worry on his face as well.  
  
McGonagall fixed them with her penetrating stare for a moment before speaking. "I assume that neither of you have any idea why you're here. Am I correct?" Harry and Ron both nodded. McGonagall took a deep breath and looked as though she was about to say something she would come to regret very much.  
  
"As you know, Hermione Granger was made a Gryffindor prefect this year. You probably haven't noticed but she's the only one in your year. There are always two prefects for every year fifth and up, one boy and one girl. I'm sure you failed to realize that neither Seamus, Dean nor Neville are prefects. There's a reason for this of course. We had a slight problem choosing this year." McGonagall was still staring at them sharply.  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged glances. What was McGonagall saying, exactly?  
  
"I have decided to name both of you prefects."  
  
Harry's jaw dropped. Him? A prefect? There was an uncanny silence in the room as both he and Ron gaped at their professor. Then Ron put words to his thoughts.  
  
"Are you mad?" he exclaimed in a shocked whisper, forgetting, for a moment, who it was he was talking to.  
  
Professor McGonagall looked extremely taken aback. She pursed her lips disapprovingly. "Hardly, Mr. Weasley, I assure you I'm quite sane." She glared at Ron, who turned bright red and stared down at his shoes in embarrassment.  
  
Harry wondered if McGonagall might not be mad as well. He tried to explain. "It's just, professor, Ron and I haven't exactly been, well," Harry looked over at the fire, not wanting to meet McGonagalls fierce gaze. "Prefects are supposed to, er- stay out of trouble and besides, we're just average students, nothing like Hermione."  
  
Harry didn't look up as he heard a rustling behind McGonagall's desk as she stood up. But he couldn't resist when he heard a small chuckle coming from his professor. There was actually a small amused smile on her face. Harry could see Ron squirming uncomfortably in his chair. This was an odd turn of events.  
  
"I'm perfectly aware that you have, on more than one occasion, failed to follow rules. I'm also aware that you will most certainly not stop breaking rules after this meeting. However, I also know that you both possess the many qualities Godric Gryffindor prided in the students of his house, and that is what this is actually all about. You've proven yourselves worthy on more than one occasion. You both strive for what is right and you act upon your instincts when they seem imprtant. I don't have to tell you how many times you've saved lives and this school."  
  
Harry was feeling distinctly flushed and when he looked over at Ron, he could barely make out his face from the red backing of the chair.  
  
"You've both received 'Special Services to the School' awards and as for your grades, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," they both looked up at her as one and McGonagall smiled. "They're not as average as you might think."  
  
~*~  
  
"I can't believe this!" Hermione exclaimed, nearly bouncing about the common room in excitement. "She made both of you prefects! This is wonderful!" Hermione continued jabbering excitedly from her place on the couch. The four of them were sitting comfortably in front of the fire, their homework spread out on the table before them. Harry and Ron had come rushing back after their meeting to tell Hermione and Ginny the good news.  
  
"Wonderful?!" Ron exclaimed in annoyance. "It's bloody awful, that's what it is! Now we're going to have to start following all the rules! No kitchen raids or slipping out to Hogsmeade. No sneaking out at nights." For some reason, Ron seemed rather disgruntled about this last one. Harry wondered why.  
"Oh, come off it, Ron," Ginny said through her giggles, "you know it won't be that bad."  
  
"Won't be that bad!" Ron replied in misery, "It's going to be awful." He suddenly went very pale. "Harry," he croaked in horror. "What if we turn into Percy?!"  
  
This was too much for Harry and he burst out laughing and even Hermione couldn't hold back a snort of laughter. Ginny was collapsed on the sofa, shaking with mirth and wiping tears from her eyes. Ron gaped at them for a moment, before a sheepish grin crept onto his face.  
  
"Well, all right. Maybe we won't turn into Percy."  
  
"Maybe?!" Hermione exclaimed. "Oh, honestly, Ron!" she huffed, with her hands on her hips.  
  
Harry shook his head as he finally calmed down. "Ron, don't worry, it'll be fine. Nothing's changed. It's not as if we're going to start licking Snape's shoes, or anything of the sort."  
  
Ginny suddenly spoke up. "If anything," she leaned in closer so that only the four of them could hear. "This will make sneaking around even easier. Just imagine, caught out of bounds at one in the morning. All you have to do is spew out some ridiculous prefect duty you forgot to take care of during the day and you're fine!"  
  
Harry laughed. "Yeah, exactly, and besides, the prefect's bathroom is unbelievable."  
  
Hermione looked as though she severely disapproved and it seemed her annoyed "humph!" was the thing that finally settled Ron. He leaned back in the armchair he was sitting in, as a grin spread across his face.  
  
"You know, I reckon you're right." Ron looked up at Harry, his eyes alight with excitement. "Harry, this is going to be bloody brilliant! We're prefects." He still seemed shocked at the very idea.  
  
Harry shook his head again. "Yeah. I just hope I'm going to be able to deal with this as well as with what happened last night."  
  
The air suddenly underwent a change. Ron, Hermione and Ginny all stopped smiling and looked at Harry simultaneously, their faces a mixture of curiosity, tension and worry.  
  
Harry had been wondering how to bring up the topic of his talk with Dumbledore last night. He knew that if he didn't, Hermione probably would, eventually, but he wanted it to be over and done with already. He took a deep breath and continued.  
  
"Dumbledore wanted to talk to me about my summer. He'd heard that I'd stayed with Sirius and what happened to Ginny and he wanted to know how I was."  
  
"That's it?" Hermione asked in disbelief.  
  
"No," Harry raked a hand through his hair, wondering how to continue, when he remembered that he wouldn't be going back to the Dursleys. He'd been so caught up in everything that he'd completely forgotten.  
  
"Ron!" he exclaimed in sudden excitement. Ron jumped at his shout and looked at Harry as though he were mad.  
  
"Sorry," Harry said quickly, "I just remembered. Dumbledore spoke with your parents and they said it would be all right.. "  
  
"What would be all right?" Ron said in annoyance.  
  
Harry glanced quickly at Ginny, grinning. "I'm not going back to the Dursleys! I'll be staying at the Burrow from now on!"  
  
It took a moment for this announcement to sink in, but when it did, the reaction was tremendous. Harry was nearly strangled as Ron, Hermione and Ginny all came flying at him, hugging him at the same time.  
  
"Harry! That's wonderful! I can't believe it!" Ginny's muffled voice came from somewhere near Harry's left ear. Harry could feel himself grinning irrepressibly, the topic of conversation forgotten for a moment.  
  
Ron seemed to be yelling something as well, but he was now hugging Hermione (for some odd reason.) and both were nearly jumping up and down with excitement.  
  
Ginny was still pressed tightly against him and Harry found himself hoping she'd never let go. He hugged her back, just as tightly, breathing in the smell of her hair, sunshine and apples.  
  
She pulled away and Harry felt a sense of loss for a moment, but he was compensated a moment later when Ginny sat down on the couch next to him and took his hand in her own, giving him a reassuring squeeze. She was smiling, all traces of fatigue wiped away by the look in her eyes. Harry remembered what he'd been about to tell them but suddenly, he wasn't as nervous as before.  
  
Ron and Hermione had sat down by now, and Harry must have missed something because they were sitting as far across from each other as they could, Ron looking down at the carpet and Hermione eyeing a book on the table.  
  
"Right, well, back to the topic." Harry began again, "that was before I told him about the dreams I've been having."  
  
Ginny's grip suddenly tightened and both Ron and Hermione looked up at him in horror.  
  
"Dreams?" Ron asked in a low, nervous voice. "You mean, dream dreams?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, they haven't been about Voldemort. They've been, well, odd is the only way to describe them. Except for the first one." Harry shuddered. He still didn't knpow just who exactly it had been that had spoken to him, but somehow, that voice knew that he was One of Power. That thought was remarkably unnerving. "I had it when Ginny was at St. Mungo's." He glanced at Ginny. "Dumbledore says it was a vision."  
  
Ginny looked worried. "A vision? But, how can that be? Only Seers have visions, don't they?"  
  
Hermione spoke up. "Not necessarily. Many witches and wizards have visions, although the vision naturally has something to do with them. Much like Harry and," Hermione hesitated slightly, "and Voldemort. But, if it wasn't a vision of him, then, what was it?" She was looking curiously at Harry, her will to learn anything new at any time clearly eminent in her eyes.  
  
Harry sighed and gave Ginny's hand a slight squeeze before proceeding to tell them every detail of the vision he'd had. He didn't leave anything out and when he'd finished, he continued to tell them about the conversation he'd had with Dumbledore.  
  
"I was about to leave when I remembered that the voice had called me "One of Power." Harry looked to Hermione, positive that she was about to launch into a shocked speech about how there hadn't been any of Power for nine hundred years and begin to list every single One of Power that had existed since the beginning of time. Hermione's face, though, remained curious and thoughtful. It took Harry a moment to get over his complete shock at Hermione's lack of knowledge on the subject. It was as Dumbledore said. Ones of Power really were rare.  
  
"I've never seen Dumbledore react like he did. He lost it." Harry shook his. "He looked so upset, I didn't know what to do. He kept asking me if I was sure, as though I'd said something completely unbelievable. And apparently, it really is. There hasn't been One of Power for nearly nine hundred years."  
  
Hermione looked awe-struck. "Yes, but what does it mean?!"  
  
Harry decided, like Dumbledore, to start at the beginning. "It all began with the Great Ones-" Hermione cut him off. "Morgana, Paracelsius, Cliodne and Merlin, right?"  
  
Harry blinked. Ron was staring at her as though she'd sprouted an extra head.  
  
"Er, yes. Them. The point is, that they had so much magic in them, they lived for thousands of years, and their descendants were unbelievably strong as well, though not all of them and not nearly as powerful as the Great Ones. The problem is, they were born so rarely, that there usually wasn't anyone with the knowledge to teach them to control their powers and they began to die out. Those were the Ones of Power."  
  
He felt Ginny squeeze his hand tightly as she gave a small gasp of shock. He couldn't look at anyone and he kept his eyes on the floor.  
  
"Hermione," Harry said suddenly, "can wizards or witches perform wandless magic?"  
  
Harry heard Hermione shift uncomfortably in her seat. "N-no." She sounded rather shaken. "Children with magical abilities are capable until a certain age, but witches and wizards past adolescence can't. It's been deemed impossible."  
  
Harry nodded. "I blew up a vase in St. Mungo's when Ginny was there and I shattered the pane of glass in the compartment door yesterday on the train. My wand was in my cloak pocket at the time." He finally looked up. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all gaping at him disbelievingly. Ginny suddenly spoke up.  
  
"Harry, you said that many of the Ones of Power died because no one was there to teach them. Why would it matter?"  
  
"Because it's too much to handle. The vision somehow triggered the magic and now I have three months, at best, to learn to control myself or-" Harry stopped his sudden outburst abruptly. He hadn't been planning on saying anything about.  
  
"Or what?" Ron had found his voice again and spoke up now.  
  
Harry looked about quickly, his eyes wide in sudden panic. He hadn't meant to let them know. He'd only been supposed to give them the simplest facts. He didn't want them to know. Harry swallowed nervously. "I- er, I."  
  
"Harry," Ginny's voice was soft yet firm next to him. "What happens if you don't learn to control yourself?"  
  
It wasn't only that he didn't want them to worry. Harry felt that if he didn't say anything, it wouldn't really happen, it wouldn't really be the truth. The truth was, that the truth terrified him. He found he was taking several deep steadying breaths, trying to calm himself down. It was a lost cause.  
  
"Ones of Power who didn't learn how to control their powers usually went mad. It's too much to take on, untrained. If I don't learn how to control myself, I won't be able to stop my magic from working of it's own accord. If I'm scared, I'll shield things out. If I'm angry I'll blow things up. I'll hurt my self as well as anyone else that happens to be around and then I'll go crazy." There. He'd said it.  
  
Ginny's hand was like a vice. When he looked up at her, her eyes were slowly filling with tears and she looked absolutely horrified. Hermione had covered her mouth with her hands and Ron was a sickly shade of green.  
  
"It's already started. Dumbledore's going to teach me as well as he can, but all he has is a dusty old book that was written who knows how many years ago? And all I have," Harry looked at his friends in despair, "is three months."  
AN (the second): Ok, that's it! I'd like to do a more personal thank you, so, Thank You to: Morgan, Kezza13, Pix the White Wanderer, Nexus, Cogden, Sew2100, Kerry, Moselle, Bucky, Rachelle, Joanna, Frax, littlesoda, Fishhead, Ninir, Ginny13, P-chan, serah, Shura, Deity, SAm, gina87, SarahSnape, Prongs, irachmiel, R*wen, lella, M.S.K, Saman, Keira Aislin, K. H. T, Leesie, Firedrake and kylsemom. WHEW!!! Thank you, all of you. And an extra special thank you to my beta, Ami, down at Gryffindor Tower. She is, as Georgia says, double cool with nobs and does, of course, RULE. That's it, hope the next one will be a LOT faster. ~Rosie 


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